Witness Protection
by silfaeyn
Summary: “Let’s just go back now, Alanna, and let Ozorne kill me where I stand. It’s got to be a quicker death than spending two months…here.” DaineNumair Romance. Set in modern times. Pure fluff! AND FINISHED! YAY!
1. Chapter 1

_Because everyone should write at least one requisite cliché fic for their fandom._ _Call me a lemming and enjoy the fluff._

**one**

The clean, fresh air of the mountains never failed to invigorate Onua. A hot mug of coffee, clasped by both hands, smelt rich and full. She lifted it to her lips, savouring the bitterness and closing her eyes as its warmth spread through her belly. Early spring, the mountain air was still crisp in the mornings, and the coffee banished the lightest touch of chill. Sitting on her wooden deck, Onua watched the morning mists settled in the valley fade and disappear, revealing frisky ponies and lazy cattle in the green fields gently sloping down the side of the hill.

The last of the coffee swallowed, Onua allowed herself to linger for only a few minutes, watching her ponies frolic and play in the early sun. She was rising to her feet, dusting the back of her worn jeans with one hand while scattering the dregs of her coffee over the deck railing, when the unmistakable sound of hoof beats sounded from the road.

Curious, Onua waited, watching the gravel road for the first glimpse of her early morning visitor. It wasn't often she received visitors this time of the day, and even less common for them to arrive on horseback.

Barely five seconds later a cloudy grey pony appeared from behind the trees lining the road, bearing a young girl with brown curly hair. Pony and rider were too far away for Onua to discern any details, but from the size of the girl Onua guessed she was close to fifteen.

Abandoning her empty mug on the deck railing, the woman walked lightly down the wooden steps, her dog Tahoitrotting at her heels.

"Morning," Onua called out, pausing at the small gate to her front yard.

The girl smiled shyly, brought the pony to a halt several feet from the gate, and dismounted with a practised ease.

"Morning, Ma'am."

Onua realised she'd misjudged the girl's age – though short and of a petit build, the girl's stance and level eyes indicated she was several years older than Onua had anticipated. "What brings you all the way up here so early in the morning?"

The girl's eyes looked hopeful. "I was told down in the village that you normally hire a hand over the summer, to help with your ponies."

"That's true, though it'snot summer yet."

"I was wondering if you might consider me," the girl said bluntly.

Onua appreciated the forwardness – too often people dithered and dathered and avoided saying what they meant. "I'd like to know a little more about you, before I make that decision," Onua smiled. "If you want to come inside, the kettle's still hot. I have a barn for your tack and a field for the pony while we talk."

The girl smiled with pleasure, and held out a hand. "Thank you, Ma'am. My name is Daine, Veralidaine Sarrasri."

"Onua Chamtong. And this is Tahoi – be careful around him, he's a one-woman dog and takes a while-" Onua snapped her mouth shut, staring in disgust at her dog already licking the girl's hand and wagging his tail. "He's _usually_ a one-woman guard dog, not a pet."

Daine smiled. "Don't blame him; my ma always said I had a knack for animals."

Onua raised her eyebrows. A knack indeed. "Come on, the barn is this way."

The grey pony followed the girl happily, and Onua studied the mare while they walked to the barn. Clean, well cared for, and obviously intelligent, the pony looked happy enough in Daine's care. That alone was almost enough for Onua – animals rarely liked a person without good cause.

---

"So tell me a little about yourself, Daine," Onua invited, placing a steaming mug in front of Daine before sitting at the opposite side of the small breakfast table.

"I come from Snowsdale, in the Northern Mountains. I lived there with my mother and grandfather all my life – we had a small farm, see, just a few goats and a couple of milking cows."

"You've come a long way from Snowsdale," Onua said easily, taking a bit of her cold toast.

"My family died," Daine said shortly, her fingers tightening around the mug. "Wasn't much left for me after that."

"No other friends or family to take you in?"

The expression on the girl's face could best be described as bitter, and Onua felt a pang of sorrow – the girl looked far too young to know bitterness. "No."

"How old are you, Veralidaine Sarrasri?"

"Nineteen, Ma'am."

Onua raised her eyebrows. "Tell me another story, and call me Onua."

Daine sighed. "Seventeen in a few weeks."

Normally, Onua didn't like taking on young people. She found them too much trouble on weekends with their drinking, and too hard to rouse out of bed for their chores. "What experience do you have working ponies?"

The girl smiled. "I told you, we had a farm. I've had Cloud – my pony – forever, and I've a fair knack for animals."

Onua studied the girl. She liked the look of her – determined, direct, and seemingly honest. "It's hard work that we do here," she warned the girl. "I have to get these ponies ready before summer – normally I do that myself because I don't like people teaching them bad habits. There's also other animals to care for, and once the summer arrives and the camps start moving through all you do is care for animals and help people learn how to ride and care for the ponies. There is also the danger of rustlers, and we're so cut off down here it's up to us to keep track of the ponies."

Daine nodded. "I understand, and I'm willing to work. I work hard, Onua, and I'm not scared to defend myself or the animals."

Onua finished the last of her toast. "Okay, let's go see how you handle the ponies, and we can decide where to go from there."

---

The mountain ponies were sturdy and strong, with distinctive temperaments and very little patience for fools. Onua, well known amongst local farmers and the like, had made a name for herself through her ability to teach the ponies reasonable manners as well as teaching people how to ride them. Still, even Onua could only exert so much influence on animals who went out of their way to cause mischief.

"Let's see what you think of them."

Those not used in camps before were all corralled together in a large pen with sturdy wooden fences. Onua watched as the girl moved amongst the ponies, letting them lip at her hands and nuzzle her chest with unusual displays of affection.

"Well?" Onua asked when Daine finally moved out of the heard and returned to the fence.

"They're lovely," Daine smiled, "but the strawberry has ear mites, and I'll need a hoof pick for the dun."

Onua raised her eyebrows. "A knack for animals?" she asked.

Daine grinned and shrugged her slim shoulders. "Ma said I spent more time with them than humans; maybe I just understand them better than most."

"The pay isn't brilliant," Onua said after a pause, "but I do give you board and food."

Daine grinned. "Thank you, Onua, you won't regret this!"

---

_Feedback is loved and adored – it's nice to let people know their efforts are appreciated! _


	2. Chapter 2

**two**

Alanna ran tired fingers through her shoulder length copper hair, pulling bangs back from her face and surveying the man sitting opposite her.

"Numair, I can't let you put yourself at risk like that. We need your testimony against Sinthya and Ozorne – both of us know they're not shy about simply eliminating any threats."

"I'm not about to go into hiding like a scared little puppy, Alanna!" Numair argued.

"So you'll let yourself be slaughtered like a little lamb instead! For goodness sake, Numair, use that supposedly brilliant brain for a change and think about what you're saying."

She recognised the stubborn set of Numair's chin. "I can look after myself, Alanna. I've been doing it for the last ten years, haven't I?"

"Do you want to stop them or not?" Alanna asked.

"Of course I do! Do you honestly think I'd risk life and limb for something I wasn't interested in?"

Alanna, despite her anger, felt a smile tugging at her lips. "No, I don't suppose you would."

"Exactly."

"Wouldn't you rather _not_ risk your life, or your limbs?"

Numair scowled. "I'm not one of your officers or detectives, Alanna, you can't technically order me around."

"I can't," she said finally, trying very hard to keep control of her temper. "I'm asking you as a _friend,_ Numair. Ozorne is dangerous; the last attack on you should have proven that to you."

"What about you?" Numair asked, and she knew she was starting to win the argument.

"For a start, I'm not the one who has the testimony or the evidence – that's you, as the eye witness. I'm only the one who'd go charging in there with my badge and my gun and make the arrest, and Ozorne knows that. Without you, Numair, we have almost nothing concrete on him."

There was a pregnant pause, and Alanna watched Numair's face carefully as he considered his options. "What do you want me to do, and where do you plan on hiding me?" Numair asked finally.

Alanna grinned. "I know just the place."

---

"Are you trying to kill me?" Numair enquired blandly.

Alanna smiled as she shifted gears, her small car straining up the steep slope.

"If I was trying to kill you I wouldn't insist on you going into witness protection," Alanna pointed out.

"Alanna, this is the middle of nowhere!" Numair exclaimed, all pretence of resignation disappearing in his outburst.

"Exactly," Alanna said smugly. "And because Ozorne knows you so well, this is the last place on the face of the planet that he'd think to look for you."

"This _is_ the last place on the planet," Numair muttered darkly.

"Come on, Numair, it's not _that_ bad," Alanna said cheerily. "Fresh air, gorgeous views, nothing but the sound of the birds and the breeze in the trees."

"You are trying to kill me," Numair said flatly.

"Rich people pay a lot of money for this sort of retreat," Alanna scolded. She was, she knew, taking far too much enjoyment in Numair's apparent dismay, but considering the man's ability to make her want to break his neck, she figured he deserve her mirth.

"Yes, but rich people are insane," Numair said loftily.

Alanna eyed him as she pulled the car to a stop in front of a white picket fence. "Numair, I hate to break it to you, but you _are_ rich."

He scowled darkly at her, and Alanna smiled sweetly in return.

"Come along, Numair, and smell that fresh mountain air."

"You masochist," he accused as he climbed out the car. "Where _are_ we, Alanna?"

Alanna grinned broadly. "Your new home for the next two months."

She watched Numair as he studied the surroundings. His face, already wrinkled with distaste, seemed to grow more and more disheartened as he observed the small whitewashed cottage complete with a neat wooden deck. To the side was a classic red barn, and to top it all off there were several chickens wandering around the yard, pecking happily at grubs.

"Let's just go back now and let Ozorne kill me where I stand. It's got to be a quicker death than spending two months…_here._"

Alanna smiled. "It's not that bad, Numair, you're just not used to the country."

"I'm not used to the country because I _like_ the city," he pointed out.

Ignoring his griping, Alanna unlatched the gate and shooed him inside the small garden. She'd only managed to shut the gate and take two steps up the garden path behind his lanky frame when all hell broke loose.

A large grey dog with curling fur and very big teeth appeared from around the side of the house, moving like a missile. Chickens, moments before happily finding their lunch, scattered in a flurry of feathers and disgruntled cries. The dog, meanwhile, barking alarm, launched itself at Numair and knocked him flat to the ground. Numair, not used to dogs let alone a dog the size of a small pony, was screaming and squawking and flailing with his arms.

"No! Tahoi, no! Leave him be, Tahoi!"

A girl with brown hair came flying around the corner Tahoi had appeared around mere seconds before. She grabbed the large dog by his collar, tried to pull him back, dragging against him with all her weight. "Tahoi, NO!"

The dog relented and took several steps backward. The girl, not expecting his sudden obedience, stumbled and landed hard on her rump. Tahoi whined and licked her cheek in apology, before turning back to Numair and growling low in his throat.

"I knew you were trying to kill me!" Numair gasped, pulling himself into a sitting position. "For crying out loud, Alanna, Ozorne is definitely quicker."

Alanna looked down at Numair who normally towered over her by head and shoulders, sitting in the dirt with slobber on his grey sweater, grass in his hair and dust on his cheeks. And then she started laughing; laughing until her belly ached and Tahoi howled in accompaniment.

"What in the blazes is going on here?" a familiar voice demanded.

"Onua!" Alanna managed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, Onua, you should have seen it."

Numair had by this stage climbed back to his feet and was glaring balefully at the dog who was returning his stare equally warily.

"You should have told me you were coming for a visit, Alanna," Onua scolded, and Alanna was gratified to see a small smile touching her lips. "I'd have kept Tahoi out back instead of letting him knock your friend off his feet."

"That animal should be locked up," Numair said with disgust, trying to dust his hands on his equally dusty chinos, but only succeeding in raising small puffs of dust.

"I need a favour, Onua," Alanna interrupted, before the woman could insult Numair with her sharp tongue.

Onua glared at Numair for a minute before looking at Alanna. "This better be good."

Alanna glanced at the girl, now petting Tahoi but obviously listening with interest. "It is, but it's sort of personal."

Onua frowned in confusion, and shrugged. "Daine, would you mind seeing to the roan by yourself?"

"No, I'll be fine." The girl smiled and nodded, disappearing around the back of the house with Tahoi following happily in her tracks.

"Let's go inside," Onua said, jerking her head toward the house. "It's almost time for lunch anyway."

---

"Two months, Onua," Alanna begged. "That's all, two months. He'll be gone before your season starts, and he'll probably lock himself in his room and attach himself to his laptop the entire time anyway, so you'll hardly know he's here."

Onua sighed, and Alanna bit her lip.

"Please, Onua?"

"What am I going to tell Daine?" Onua asked finally. "I hired her this morning; I can hardly turn her out now without an explanation."

"You don't need to turn her out," Alanna said smoothly. "Just tell her Numair is… a friend who's going through a rough patch. She shouldn't find that hard to believe."

"What is that supposed to mean, Alanna?"

"Shut up, Numair, I'm trying to save your life here."

"You're trying to get me eaten by a pack of wild animals."

"They wouldn't want to eat you," Onua retorted. "You'd be all gristle and tough meat. No flavour at all."

"I don't appreciate being talked about as though I'm a lamb chop," Numair said smartly.

"I'm desperate, Onua, we don't know how far into the force the mob has spread – Ozorne has his fingers in everything. I need Numair out of the way until the trial – without him I don't like our chances of putting Ozorne away from good."

"As long as he stays out of the way," Onua agreed reluctantly. "I'm busy enough as it is; I don't need to baby sit as well."

"I can look after myself," Numair inserted.

Alanna raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it, Numair, I've seen you. You can't even cook a slice of toast in a toaster."

Numair scowled. "That's why tinned spaghetti and baked beans exist."

"Do you even know what a can opener looks like?"

"They come with pull-tabs now, Alanna."

Alanna turned to Onua. "Don't let him fool you – his IQ is through the roof, and when he gets his head out of his ass he is actually bearable."

"If he can't cook, I'll have other chores he can do," Onua said, nodding.

"Hey!" Numair protested.

"I'm agreeing to house you here out of the goodness of my heart," Onua said sharply. "The least you could do is help out; there's lots of work to be done."

"Doesn't she get reimbursed for all the costs I'll incur?" Numair demanded.

"Yes, but personal time and disruption don't get covered with money, so if I were you I'd behave and help out," Alanna said easily. She finished her juice and stood up.

"You're not staying for lunch?" Onua asked.

"No, I have to get back to work. Come on, Numair, let's get your things out of my trunk so I can leave."

---

_Feedback and comments loved and adored. Please? _


	3. Chapter 3

_I am having way too much fun with this. Really. If I knew clichés were this much fun I'd have abandoned angst and drama and canon a long time ago!_

**three**

Numair perched on the end of what would be his bed for the next two long months, his long legs almost bumping the chest of draws running against the wall next to the bed. Beneath his now extremely dusty loafers, the floor was wooden and polished to a high shine, but Numair could see scrapes and dents in what should have been an unbroken surface. A large window set in the wall facing the foot of the bed was bordered with clean yellow curtains.It overlooked the valley and mountains rising majestically in the distance, a view most people would have died for. Numair though, scowled at the view, and ran elegant fingers through his long hair.

The only saving grace about this room, he thought,was the presence of one small outlet next to the bed, where he could plug in his laptop. Numair scowled again – there was no phone jack and he sincerely doubted Onua would have wireless networking in her tiny little cottage.

Hell, he thought grimly, looking out of the window at the green grass and sunny day, this has to be hell. If the fresh air and sunshine didn't kill him first, he was going to kill Alanna when he saw her again. A long, slow, painful death, and then kill her again for good measure.

The wooden floor thumped hollowly beneath his feet when he stood up and walked to the door, and as he walked down the narrow stairs they creaked and groaned in protest of his weight. Numair felt too big in this small wooden house, like Alice in Wonderland who at too much cake and grew and grew and grew.

A quick tour around the house – it wasn't very big – showed him it was empty. Numair frowned; where could the two women possibly be? It wasn't like he was curious about them or anything, but he wasn't particularly keen and hanging around by himself in case that great big ox of a dog came thundering back.

Not to mention, he thought warily as he stepped into the yard, that the chickens looked like they had very sharp beaks and beady, evil little eyes.

---

The sound of a dog barking in the distance caught Numair's attention. He'd been wandering around the yard for the last few minutes (taking great care to stay out of reach of the chickens), trying to work where exactly the two women could be. He had briefly considered going toward the barn,but something from his childhood bedtime stories reminded him that cows and goats and cats lived in barns, and while Numair didn't mind cats as a rule, goats were far too naughty and cows were just plain scary.

Still, if he listened carefully, the barking dog sounded like it was somewhere beyond the barn. With a last, sorrowful look at his ruined loafers and dust covered chinos, Numair walked along a small track leading toward the barn. The track, he discovered to his disgust, was a minefield of chicken poop and mud, and any hopes of saving his clothing were completely abandoned.

Several feet from the barn door the trackforked, one arm leading to the barn door and another veering away to the left, snaking alongside trees and a white wooden fence. The ground sloped gently, and as the trail turned a slow right taking him behind the barn, Numair caught sight of the two women, the grey mutt of a dog, and a field full of beasties.

Score one for the city boy, he thought happily, who needs to be an Indian guide when he's such a natural at tracking?

He wasn't even three feet from the fence when the dog started barking. Several of the horses kicked up their back legs and raced around the small enclosure. Numair broke into a cold sweat of fear as rock-like feet came within scant inches of the women who didn't look the slightest bit concerned.

"Tahoi, stop it!" The older woman shushed the dog. "You're scaring the ponies."

Her name was Onua, Numair remembered, looking at her. And she was as sour and sharp as a Granny Smith apple. The young woman next to Onua though, looked a different story completely. Finely built with a neat figure emphasised by faded jeans and a plain white T shirt, Numair wondered how old she was, and whether she was related to Onua or not.

"Come to help, have you?" Onua called out. She was too far away for Numair to tell if she was being friendly or had his death in mind.

A lot of people wanted to kill him lately, he thought grimly as he approached the fence, and he was beginning to think he was wrong in believing Ozorne to be at the top of that list.

"Those beasties look dangerous," he returned, shaking his head, "I'm not volunteering to have my head kicked in or my hand bitten off."

"These beasties, as you call them, are as gentle as lambs. Come on in and meet them."

Numair snorted. "I'm not supposed to be risking my life," he reminded her, and then glanced guiltily at the girl standing silently beside one of the horses. She didn't know he was supposed to be hiding, he remembered. Alanna had wanted as few people as possible to know about him and what he where he was.

"They won't hurt, I promise," Onua said. "Come on, I'll bring one over."

He eyed her suspiciously as she walked a big brown horse to the fence – why was she being so nice all of a sudden? Still, if she was going to be nice it might make staying here a bit easier for the next two months.

The horse looked even bigger and meaner up close, and there was a streak of snot running out of its right nostril. Numair curled his lips in distaste. "You know what, I'd rather not, thanks."

"You're not telling me you're scared of a little pony?"

She was definitely mocking him, he decided, and Numair wasn't fond of being mocked.

"Of course not," he huffed, trying to swallow the cardboard suddenly lodged his throat. "It just looks unhygienic."

The mocking looked like it was progressing steadily to open laughter.

"Cloud might be easier," a soft voice suggested.

The young girl with the nice figure was at the fence too, a grey horse at her shoulder. Numair assumed the colour was why the animal was called Cloud. He studied the horse and tried to ignore the girl – there was no snot in its nostril and its coat looked a lot smoother and cleaner than that of the brown horse.

"Yes," he agreed loftily, "the grey one is cleaner."

"Well, go on then," Onua said blandly.

Numair hesitated, looking at the horse. "What exactly is it that I have to do?"

"Hold out your hand like this," the girl said, demonstrating with her hand stretched out, palm up. "Make sure you hold her fingers together so she doesn't accidentally bite them."

"Accidentally bite my fingers off?" Numair said doubtfully, but he still held his hand in front of him in the way she had demonstrated. "Like this?"

"That's it. Now just hold it like that in front of her so she can smell you."

Numair wasn't sure he wanted a horse to smell him, but the girl looked like she knew what she was talking about, so he obeyed. The horse's breath felt warm and sticky against his skin, and suddenly she was licking him.

"That's disgusting!" he told her sharply, looking at his slimed hand with dismay.

"She's getting to know you," the girl disagreed. "It's how ponies say hello."

"I think talking is a lot easier," Numair complained.

"Hold your hand out again," the girl ordered.

Numair sighed, and wanted to argue, but the girl's eyes were a beautiful grey and her lips looked like they'd make a nice smile. He obeyed, grimacing as the horse lipped at his skin.

"There you go," the girl smiled. "She likes her neck being stroked, like this."

Despite his dislike for horses, and the horrible smell that surrounded them, Numair found that the steel grey fur was soft and warm beneath his hand. If the horse were a cat, he imagined she would have purred. Numair liked cats - they were self sufficient and clean.

"There you go, and expert already," Onua said. Numair wasn't sure he appreciated the dryness in her tone. "Where are my manners? Daine, this is Numair. Numair, this is my assistant Daine. Numair will be staying with us for a while, Daine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Numair smiled his most winning smile at Daine, hoping to charm her.

Daine blushed prettily and ducked her head against the horse's neck. "It's nice to meet you too. Now why don't you come inside and meet some more of the ponies, seeing as you'll be staying for a while?"

Numair, still stroking the horse – Cloud, he thought to himself – shook his head. "Thanks all the same, but those horses are big and there are more of them in there than there are of me."

"They're ponies, Numair, not horses. And these ones are little. Horses are much, much bigger." Onua's eyes were twinkling, and Numair looked at her suspiciously. He wasn't entirely convinced she was telling him the truth.

"They're lovely, Numair, really," Daine wheedled. "Come on, you'll like them."

He was tempted, if only to see Daine smile again, but even that wasn't worth being stampeded to death by a wild herd of horses. Ponies, he amended to himself, as he shook his head. They were ponies. "Thanks all the same, but I've had my nature fix for the day. Maybe I'll come play with the beasties again a little later."

Like in my next lifetime, he thought. Cloud, whose neck he was still stroking, suddenly shook her head violently and made a strange, snorting noise. Numair looked down at his clothes in dismay – they were streaked with a horribly familiar slimy green slobber.

Onua smiled. "Looks like the beastie likes you, Numair."

Numair blew a raspberry at the horse in return and started turning to walk back up the path. But there was a chicken there, he realised a few seconds too late, and it seemed to explode in a burst of feathers and squawks. Numair screamed – he'd console himself later that it wasn't a girly scream, but rather a manly scream of pure terror – and stumbled over his own feet as he tried to get away from the demented bird. His foot slipped – doubtlessly on a wet patch of chicken poop – and he felt himself falling.

The last thing he remembered was a flurry of feathers as the chicken tried to get out his way, before stars exploded across his vision and the world turned dark.

---

_You all know the drill – a feedback a day keeps the writers block away ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**four**

Numair was a lot heavier than he looked, and given his height he looked heavy enough as it was. Daine grunted in a most unladylike way as she helped Onua, struggling to drag the unconscious man upright so they could sling his arms across their shoulders.

"This," Onua gasped, struggling for breath, "this isn't going to work. At all."

Daine, her arms straining in protest and fingers clutching desperately at a sweater that wouldn't stay still, agreed very readily. The man was simply too big and too heavy for two short women. Carting hay bales around and man-handling animals had given Daine strength, but even she wasn't Superwoman by any stretch of the imagination.

"God, I wish Stefan was here," Onua muttered darkly. "This man weighs a ton."

"What if we get him on a pony?" Daine suggested.

Onua grinned almost wickedly. "That is the best idea I've heard all day."

"I'll get Cloud; she's a bit steadier than the others."

Cloud, Daine's ally and companion for years, flicked back her ears and snorted with disgust, obviously not impressed about having to carry so large a burden. "It's only a short work, Cloud, I wouldn't ask you to do it otherwise," Daine reassured the mare, scratching gently under her chin.

By the time Daine had the mare out of the corral and standing impatiently beside Onua, Numair had started to moan and mumble from his position on the ground.

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" Daine asked hesitantly, looking down at the man in question.

Onua shrugged. "I doubt one little bump could get through his skull to cause any serious damage to anything that might be important in there."

Daine privately thought any bump on the head was something to worry about, but it wasn't her place to argue with Onua. So she turned her concern toward getting Numair onto her pony's back – something she hadn't actually considered when she'd had her brilliant idea.

"How are we going to get him on Cloud?" Daine questioned.

Numair, as though aware of her dilemma, gave a long, loud moan and flopped weakly on the floor.

Onua nudged him with her foot. "Give it a few more minutes; he's starting to come round. All we have to do is help him onboard then – I'm not dragging him all the way back to the house."

Sure enough, Numair opened his eyes and moaned again, before letting his lids droop once again. Daine was beginning to suspect the moans were affected and the dramatics a ploy.

"Numair? How do you feel?" Onua asked, crouching beside him and patting his cheek.

He muttered something unintelligible and flailed around randomly with one of his hands.

"Come on, let's get you up and back to the house," Onua said gruffly, catching the flailing limb. "Give me a hand, Daine."

Semi-conscious, Numair was significantly easier to man-handle than he was when completely unconscious – instead of being like a heavy piece of spaghetti he now had some control over his limbs, even though he lacked co-ordination.

It took a lot of effort (and coaxing on Daine's behalf to keep Cloud standing still), but eventually they had Numair sprawled over Cloud's back like a heavy sack of potatoes. Daine looked at the spectacle, observing the tall man's feet almost dangled on the ground on one side, while he long arms almost trailed in the dirt on the other.

"Thank goodness the ride is a short one. I feel sorry for your Cloud," Onua remarked.

"She's sturdy," Daine returned, starting up the track to the house, "and if she decides he's too heavy, I bet you she'll dump him."

---

By the time they had Numair settled on the couch (Onua had informed Daine she wasn't even going to consider attempting the stairs with the man), Daine's arm felt like Jello and she was very happy to agree with Onua.

Numair himself had been mumbling strange, incoherent sentences since they loaded him onto Cloud's back. When they'd dragged him inside, to his credit he'd attempted to walk, but the strange, staggering action of his legs had not helped them at all and before they'd even gotten up onto the deck his head had dropped forward and he became a dead weight in their arms. Thankfully they already had him weighted on their shoulders, and it was only a matter of grunting and dragging for a few more feet before dumping him onto the couch.

"I'll see to Cloud," Onua informed her after they accomplished their task. "_You_ can look after him."

Daine wanted to argue – Cloud wasn't too good with strangers and didn't like anyone other than Daine looking after her – but something in Onua's tone brooked no argument. Numair, she realised with dismay, was going to be her concern until he was better.

Onua left to see to Cloud, leaving Daine alone in the room with the strange man on the couch. She wondered why Onua was reluctant to call a doctor – head injuries were fairly serious. Daine's ma, a regional nurse, had explained to her that it could seem as though nothing was wrong for a while after a bump to the head, but if the brain got bruised it got worse and worse until the person suddenly turned for the worse. When that happened, Sarra had said, there wasn't much chance to help unless they got seen to real quick.

With that small bit of knowledge tucked in her mind, Daine decided she better examine Numair, just in case his head was hurt worse than Onua thought.

Daine ran her hands carefully through his hair, trying not to think about how silky the long strands felt between her fingers. She found a large bump on the back at the right, and tested it gently with her fingers. No blood; only a hard knot that felt like a regular bump.

She was perched on the edge of the couch, her hip squashed against his chest with her arms around his neck as she examined his head, when his eyes fluttered open again. They were beautiful eyes, Daine thought dreamily, beautiful dark eyes with thick long lashes, and they were very, very close to her own.

"Well," he murmured, "this is nice."

Daine jerked away from him, her hand accidentally knocking the bump on his head. He winced in pain and twisted away from her hands, scrunching his eyes shut in agony.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry!" she babbled, fluttering her hands uselessly about his shoulders. "Are you okay? Mister Numair?"

"Fine," he managed, groaning a little. "It was just unexpected."

"I'm sorry," she murmured again. Unbidden her fingers reached for his forehead; it felt cool and slightly damp beneath her touch. She pushed a stray lock of coal black hair back and realised what she was doing.

"Don't stop," he said, his eyes still closed, "it feels nice."

She raised her eyebrows. "I think that bump on your head damaged something," she told him tartly.

"Only my pride," he confessed, a small smile curling his lips.

"You're lucky you didn't damage the chicken. Onua wouldn't have been happy at all."

"I don't think Onua likes me very much."

Daine touched his forehead again, refusing to let her fingers linger. "I'm going to get you a drink of water. Lie still for a bit."

"I'm fine," he disagreed, opening his eyes and looking up at her.

"Lie still," she said again, firmly. "I'll be right back."

She'd barely taken four steps away from the couch when she heard the distinctive sound of movement behind her. She turned back around in time to see Numair rise to his feet, turn a strange shade of pale, and promptly collapse to the ground in a muddle of arms and legs and coal black hair.

"I _told_ you to stay still," she sighed.

He groaned. "I did stay still, but the world didn't listen, Daine. The ground threw me."

A smile tugged at her lips as she moved back to help him. "And next you'll be telling me a chicken attacked you."

"A chicken _did_ attack me!"

---

Dinner was a simple meal; while Onua was talented with horses and kept things clean and neat, Daine realised that cooking was not high on the woman's list of priorities. They ate in companionable silence, both Daine and Onua tired from their day's labour with the horses.

"I wanted to say thank you," Onua said suddenly, her voice low so she didn't disturb the sleeping Numair in the sitting room next door.

"For what?" Daine asked, surprised.

"Your help today. I told you I don't normally like people helping me with the ponies until they're trained the way I like them. You handle the animals well, and you teach them the way I like. You're making my life a lot easier," the woman smiled.

Daine blushed with pleasure, and put her knife and fork together on her empty plate. "It's a pleasure," she said shyly. "And thank you for hiring me; not many people would at my age."

Onua regarded Daine thoughtfully. "I wasn't going to hire you, you know – age can be a prejudice."

Daine smiled as she scratched Tahoi behind his ears. "But you did hire me, so it doesn't matter."

"Right, well, last chores for the night. One of us gets to clean the kitchen, the other gets to tend His Highness in there." Onua jerked her head toward the sitting room, a look of distaste on her dark features.

"Why don't you like him, Onua, and if you don't like him, why's he staying here?"

"It's a favour for a friend who I owe a lot too," Onua said simply. "And he's an arrogant, self centred male. I'd be willing to bet he's a ladies man too, plays them the way a cat plays with a mouse. Mark my words, Daine, that man is trouble. Now, do you want to do the dishes, or do you want to have another round with him?"

Daine privately thought the dishes would be more work, but going by the look on Onua's face the woman would rather wash and dry than spend more time in Numair's company.

"I'll see to Numair," she said after a final scratch for Tahoi. "He's not that bad, Onua."

Onua raised an eyebrow. "He's almost twice your age, Daine, don't you go falling for him."

Daine knew her red hot cheeks gave her away, but she jutted her chin out stubbornly. "I don't plan on falling in love with anyone just yet, Onua. I'm too young for that sort of thing."

An odd smile touched Onua's lips. "You're not a bad kid, Daine. If he gets out of hand just tell him you'll fetch in one of the chickens."

"I heard that!" a loud voice bellowed from the sitting room. "And I'm not afraid of chickens."

Onua grinned. "At least it won't be dull with him around."

"Let's introduce him to the cows tomorrow," Daine whispered, delighted to see a wicked smile of appreciation curve Onua's lips into a grin.

---

_I probably won't be updating as frequently as I have been in the next few days – I have several major exams coming up and I would like to actually pass this year! Still, knowing my ability to ignore study and write fic, particularly during swatvac, there probably will be several more updates for a while yet. Just warning you all in advance!_

_And thanks for all the reviews – I'm a little ashamed to admit I sit at the computer and red them as they come! They're definitely a useful distraction against study and make my day a little brighter._

_Cheers,_

_Sil_


	5. Chapter 5

**five**

There wasn't a TV. Numair couldn't believe it. How could any normal, healthy, _sane_ person, _not_ have a TV?

He stared blankly at Onua. "But what do you _do_ in the evenings?" he demanded.

"I sleep."

He blinked. "What about before you sleep?"

"Paperwork. Washing. Ironing. Sometimes I read."

"What about on your days off?" he demanded. After all, there was only so much reading a person could do.

He didn't expect Onua to start laughing. Not just a giggle or a chuckle, but a full belly laugh that made him want to edge away in concern. "Days…off…" she gasped, holding her belly and doubling over. "Oh, Lordy, there's a joke!"

"So what am I supposed to do while I'm here?"

It took several long seconds for Onua to regain her composure. "Read?" she suggested.

"I don't read trashy romances," he informed her coldly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Neither do I. There's a shelf over there with textbooks on agriculture, mammals and biology. Beneath it I have astronomy textbooks, and there are a few history chronicles there for good measure too."

"Why do you have astronomy textbooks?" Numair asked.

"Is it so hard to believe I might be interested in astronomy?" she asked coldly, her lips narrowing into a tight white line.

If Numair were the type man to understand when he'd gone too far, he might have kept his mouth shut and moved to the book shelf. As it was, Numair rarely exercised diplomacy. "Yes," he said, studying her old jeans and faded sweater, "I can't see you being interested in astronomy at all. Do you even know any of the constellations?"

For a minute he thought perhaps he'd pushed her too far, and that she would reach for the phone and call Alanna to get him away from her house and out of her hair. Good, Numair thought, realising that had been the plan along. He didn't want to stay here with evil chickens and mean dogs and horses that spat. Ponies, he thought, and then remembered he didn't care what they were called.

"You're right," she said suddenly, an odd twist in her lips. "I'm not interested in astronomy."

"Then why-"

"My husband was. Feel free to look at them, I'm going to bed. You should head up soon as well, Daine, we have an early start tomorrow morning." She turned and left the room without another word.

Numair looked at Daine who was sprawled on a rug with Tahoi on her legs. "Did you know she was married?"

The girl shook her head, soft brown curls tumbling lightly over her shoulders. "I only got here this morning," Daine admitted. "I have no idea who she is."

Numair shrugged – he didn't really care much either way – and selected a thick volume from Onua's bookshelf. "Well, her husband had good taste anyway." Catching Daine's glance, he added. "Good taste in _books._"

---

Numair cracked open an eyelid, groaning to himself as bright light accosted him. He shut the eye immediately, and tried to burrow further under his covers, only when he pulled them up over his head his feet felt suspiciously cold.

Come to think of it, he thought blearily, his feet felt like they were dangling over the edge of the bed. Numair opened his eyes again, peeking out at the much too bright morning. And then he remembered where he was.

The damn bed was too short and the covers were equally short. Growling with frustration and muttering about red headed detectives who had it in for their chief witnesses, Numair gave up on getting comfortable and flopped onto his back.

A dull ache at the base of his skill reminded him of the previous day and his unmanly display of terror thanks to a stupid bird with a brain the size of a pea. And a really, really sharp beak. He was contemplating how to go about regaining his pride in front of the women, when he realised he was hungry.

Glancing at his wristwatch, he sighed when he saw it was only 10am. Really far too early to be up on a Saturday, he thought to himself. Still, he was hungry, and Onua _had_ said last night that she and Daine were to have an early start.

He threw the covers off reluctantly, and swung himself upright. The floor beneath his feet was absolutely freezing – he pulled his feet back up with a yelp and glared at the wooden boards as though they had caused him a great offence. Hadn't Onua heard of central heating? Or at the very least, a thick fluffy rug?

It took another two minutes of consideration, a very loud growl from his rather empty stomach, and an extremely full bladder to convince Numair that he really did want to get up. Still, Numair wasn't inclined to do anything to cause himself discomfort, and felt rather proud of himself when he tossed his blankets to the floor and let his feet settle on them. Yes, he thought, letting his toes wriggle on the still-warm blankets, this was definitely one of his better ideas.

The next dilemma, he realised, was how to get from the side of his bed where the blankets were lovely and warm beneath his feet, to the bathroom (not even an en suite) which was all the way up the narrow, rickety, cold little hall.

Socks, he thought to himself with a great deal of pride at his ingenuity. It was, after all, quite difficult for a man to cope in such primitive situations, but Numair was nothing if not tough. Only, he realised a minute too late, he didn't exactly have another pair of socks. Alanna, so eager to bring him to this hell, had packed him into her compact little car (which was all right for her little legs, but rather cramped for his longer ones) with nothing more than a lukewarm coffee and a dry bagel for his breakfast.

Another growl from his stomach and niggle from his bladder convinced Numair that the dirty, dusty socks he had worn yesterday would do until Onua could present him with something a little better.

It was tricky shuffling the blanket under his feet to his abandoned socks and shoes, but he managed. It was even trickier trying to balance on one foot while trying to put a dirty sock onto the other, and Numair felt a flash of pride when he finally lowered his second dirty-sock clad foot to the floor and protected his sensitive soles from the coldness of the wood.

Five minutes later, Numair was standing in the kitchen feeling a little lost – where did Onua keep her cereal and bowls? He considered the various cupboards and shelves from his vantage point in the doorway, stifling a yawn and scratching at his bare chest while trying to decide exactly which cereal he felt like.

There was no cereal in the first cupboard he opened, nor the second, third, fourth or fifth. He found the bowls in the sixth and discovered coffee mugs in the seventh, but there was no trace of cereal to be found. He did find a small bag labelled '_oats_' and shook his head with wry amusement that Onua kept horse – _pony_ – food in her cupboards.

But Numair was hungry and there was no cereal in the cupboards. He frowned, and briefly considered trying something like bacon and eggs, but even he knew what was within the realm of possibility. Still, he did know how to make coffee so he could at least have one of those.

---

By the time the clock ticked over to 11:30am, Numair was bored out of his skull. He'd had several cups of coffee to try and dull the gnawing ache in his stomach, and had paged through a book or two before losing patience. He would have braved the chickens in the great outdoors to find Daine and Onua, but he was not putting his dirty socks in his loafers, and he'd been horrified to discover his clothes from the previous day had several smears of what could only be chicken poop. He was no wearing clothes covered in chicken poop.

Numair really didn't like chickens.

So he sat on the couch in his boxers and dirty socks, waiting for Daine and Onua to come back from wherever they had gone off to so early in the morning. But they weren't arriving, and it was already – Numair checked his watch again – 11:31am.

What on earth could possibly be so pressing that neither Daine nor Onua could come and help him find some breakfast? Maybe, he realised suddenly, they'd gone to buy cereal! That could explain why they were taking so long, and why there was none of it to be found in the house.

Decidedly pleased with his deductive reasoning skills, Numair decided he might as well have a shower. He didn't like the idea of putting on his used boxers again, but decided he'd feel a lot better with clean hair and fingernails. Hopefully by the time he was done they'd be back with some Froot Loops or Corn Flakes - he was rather partial to Froot Loops though, and hoped that somehow Onua might just realise that.

---

_Apparently this fic is more interesting than my study. Please let me know what you think of the story so far!_


	6. Chapter 6

**six**

"Okay," Onua called from the far end of the corral. "I think these guys are about done for the day. Good work, Daine!"

Daine grinned happily, pushing her sweat-dampened hair off her forehead and trying to tie it down under a bandana. The unruly curls, tormented by a brisk breeze and the moist spring air, refused to obey. Daine sighed in frustration and jammed her cap back on over the bandana.

"What do you say to some lunch?" Onua asked, approaching Daine.

"I think lunch sounds brilliant."

"Let's get the ponies out in that field," Onua said, pointing, "and then we can go take a break. We'll come back this afternoon and go for a ride around the property so you can get a feel for the land."

"That would be great," Daine said enthusiastically.

The ponies were easy enough to herd out of the corral and into the field where Onua wanted them. The two women stood at the gate for several minutes, watching the ponies frolic and race through the emerald green field.

"Is it always this green here?" Daine asked, taking in the lush grass leading down the valley. The fields were embroidered with a thick copse of trees following the flow of the valley. The higher borders were also lined with trees, but they looked dense and scraggly, like the mountain trees Daine was used to in her home village. She let her eyes follow the scraggly tree line, seeing how it turned into rough mountain country that wound between the steep, rocky slopes of the hills and mountains not too far away.

"Not in winter when it snows," Onua said, "but it's pretty good all year round. The mountains get a lot of rain, even in the summer, and the water gets fed straight into the streams and rivers that flow right through my land. Thankfully, we're too high up to worry about flooding, but when it storms it can be pretty intense up here."

"What's all yours?" Daine asked curiously.

Onua swept her arm out grandly. "Most of that. The lower part of the valley belongs to Stefan – he breeds thoroughbreds and falabellas which he sells for a lot money. In the summer time though, when I take my riding camps into the mountains, he comes up here and keeps an eye on things for me. Well, either him or his assistant Sarge. You'll like them; one of them usually pops up at least once a week. They pretend it's because the like my coffee, but they really just come to make sure everything is fine."

"Why wouldn't it be fine?" Daine asked curiously, looking at Onua.

The woman's face, normally open and direct, seemed to close up as she shifted her eyes to a distant mark on the landscape only she could see. "Well, there was a time things weren't so good. Stefan and Sarge… they helped me. I think they feel responsible for me being here by myself. But that is just rubbish," Onua said gruffly, a smile tugging at my lips. "I can look after myself, Daine, and there's nothing to worry about anymore."

Daine wanted to ask more, curious about Onua's seemingly secretive past, but she knew it was rude and none of her business. If Onua wanted to tell her, Onua would tell her when she was ready.

"Should I put Cloud in with these, or is there somewhere else you'd like her?" Daine asked instead.

"If you're happy for her to play with these mischief makers, she can stay in here with them. This afternoon when we go for our ride, I'd like us to go one of these ponies each, if you don't mind not riding Cloud."

"That's fine," Daine said. "Cloud should learn to share me. She's gotten selfish lately."

Onua's eyebrows quirked with amusement and a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm going to put the equipment away; you can let the little mare into the field and then head to the house to start on lunch. I made dinner, you get to make lunch. Help yourself to whatever."

"You don't want a hand putting everything away?"

"No, it's not that much – I'd be happier if lunch was ready by the time I was done," the woman said, winking.

"Yes Ma'am!"

---

The sun overhead was hot as it baked down on Daine's head. It wasn't even summer yet, but Daine suspected that it would get a lot warmer and more humid come the hot season. Still, the valley was beautiful and she suspected that the dams she had spied in the fields while studying the landscape would make good swimming holes. And there were always the creeks that washed down from the mountains with fresh, icy cold water to splash in.

Daine was smiling happily at the thought of exploring the mountain country as she trotted up the wooden stairs and into the small house. It was cool and airy inside; sparsely furnished and clean. Daine, not one for clutter and fuss, enjoyed the simpleness and appreciated the rustic touch. It made her feel as though she was back in the days of pioneering, when people had to survive in the wild by their wits.

Grinning slightly at her romantic imaginings of a time long gone, it took Daine several seconds to realise she wasn't alone in the kitchen. Numair, dressed only in a pair of boxers and grubby socks, was dripping in the middle of the floor, a scowl plastered unhappily across his face.

"Where were you?" he demanded petulantly.

"Working," Daine said with some surprise. "Why on earth are you standing dripping in the kitchen?"

"I was hungry, but there wasn't any breakfast so I went to have a shower, but there weren't any towels, were there?" he almost snarled.

Daine raised her eyebrows, trying very hard to ignore the sight of his wet chest and dark hair curling around his neck. He had, she admitted grudgingly to herself, a very, _very_ nice body. "It's almost lunch time already, why were you looking for breakfast?"

"I was looking for breakfast almost an hour ago," he informed her, "so I had a shower to pass the time. But I have no clean clothes to put on." He grimaced in disgust and continued, "I couldn't find any towels."

"There's no need to be so irritable," she told him tartly.

"How would you feel if you had no breakfast, clean clothes or a towel? I didn't even sleep very well because wild animals were screeching outside my window all sorts of hours."

Daine imagined that Numair had to have some endearing qualities, but she was finding it very hard to see any of them at all. He was rude, arrogant and entirely self-centred. "If you'd opened your eyes and looked you'd have found plenty enough food for breakfast. And there are towels in the cupboard in the bathroom, just like in any normal house."

"I did look!" he protested. "There is no cereal anywhere. And in normal houses towels are kept hanging on the rack ready for when you get out of the shower."

There was no winning with the man, she supposed. "Go put some clothes on. I don't think Onua will appreciate you dripping all over her floor, so go find a towel in the bathroom," she ordered, turning around. "I'm about to fix some lunch anyway."

"But I don't have any clothes!" he whined.

"What about the ones you wore yesterday?"

"They're dirty."

"They were fine while you wore them."

He scowled, darkly and left the room in a huff, just before Onua entered via the backdoor. "What happened?" she asked, indicating the puddle on the floor.

"You really don't want to know," Daine said, sighing. "Your friend, Numair, what world does he come from?"

Onua scowled. "I told you, Daine, he's not my friend. He's staying here as a favour. How's lunch?"

"Not started yet," Daine apologised, "Numair-"

"It's okay," Onua said, dropping a hand on Daine's shoulder, scowling. "I knew that man would be trouble the minute I laid eyes on him. They're all the same, you know, treat women as slaves who have to cook and clean and bring them their slippers."

"My Grandda wasn't like that," Daine said thoughtfully, gathering tomatoes and lettuce from the fridge. "He used to cook and keep house while my ma worked. He taught me how to hunt and tend animals."

Onua scowled. "Not all are bad," she agreed reluctantly, "but you can never be sure."

"Onua!" The man in question appeared in the doorway, a faded yellow towel in one hand scrubbing at his hair. "Do you have a hairdryer?"

Daine goggled at him. "A hairdryer?" she repeated dumbly.

"What do you possibly want to do with a hairdryer?" Onua gaped. Apparently she was just as confused as Daine was about Numair's strange request, not to mention his appearance of being clad in only boxers and dirty socks.

"Usually people use them to dry their hair," Numair was explaining slowly. "I'd like to dry my hair. If I don't use a hairdryer it goes curly and frizzy and I don't like that at all. And you don't have any conditioner left either; I'm not sure how I'm going to get all the tangles out of my hair without conditioner."

"Are you gay?" Onua asked bluntly.

Numair's mouth dropped open and he started at Onua. "Gay! What on earth gave you that idea? Of course I'm not gay."

"You act like a spoilt little rich girl then," Onua informed him. "Conditioner, hairdryers, tangles and frizzyness in your hair." She held up her hand, ticking off fingers as though listing his crimes. "What normal male worries about things like that?"

"I don't know what sort of males you've been involved with, but obviously they haven't had the slightly clues about sophistication," Numair said haughtily. He turned his attention to Daine. "Is that lunch maybe ready yet? I'm really, _really_ hungry now."

Daine wordlessly turned back to the sandwiches she was making.

"Let's get something clear, Numair," Onua said abruptly. "You aren't here because I want you here. You're here because I owe Alanna a favour, and I _respect_ Alanna."

"It figures you'd respect a masochist like her," Numair grumbled beneath his breath.

"I don't know what you do, or who you are. What I do know is that Daine and I aren't here to be your servants. I have a business to run, and Daine is my employee. While you stay here you're welcome to do as you please, but you will be expected to do your share. That means you get cleaning duty, cooking duty, gardening duty and animal duty too."

"But I-"

"I don't care," Onua said crossly. "After lunch you can clear the dishes and go feed the chickens. Take a walk around the yard and find their eggs. You're making more work for us by being here, so the least you could do is help us with work we already needed to do."

"But the chickens," Numair said weakly.

If Daine was watching Onua, she imagined the woman would have an evil glint in her eye. "The chickens are birds smaller than your feet, Numair. Don't tell me you're scared of them."

"I'm not," he said finally. "I just don't _like_ them. There's a difference."

"Are you arguing with me, Numair?"

Numair hesitated. "No. I just… I don't have any clothes."

"I'll see what I can find you," Onua said finally. "I doubt I'll have anything big enough though, especially for your feet."

Yes, Daine thought as she turned around with a plate full of sandwiches, Numair's feet were rather big. In fact, everything about him was big.

"Daine would you mind if we postponed our ride this afternoon? I'll have to go into the village to get some things for him," Onua said, jerking her thumb at Numair who was already sitting expectantly at the table.

"No," Daine said, "I don't mind. I can use the time to meet your other animals."

Onua nodded approvingly. "Good. I'll make a list of things I'll get once we've eaten. If there's anything you need, Daine, let me know."

"Don't forget the Froot Loops," Numair said.

---

_Thanks for all the comments; I've taken them all into account in the next few chapters (which I've written already but am just reviewing to try and get rid of as many mistakes as possible). Thanks for all the encouragement, I really appreciate them!_

_Please keep letting me know what you think! _


	7. Chapter 7

**seven**

The trousers Onua had unearthed for Numair were much, much too short. They were a little snug around the waist and thighs, but evidently whoever they had belonged to before (Daine was willing to guess it was Onua's mysterious husband) had been a little larger in girth than Numair.

Dressed in trousers that reached mid-calf, thick knitted woollen socks and his shamefully dirty loafers from the day before, Numair looked very different from the sophisticated man who had graced the house the day before.

"Don't you dare laugh," he said shortly, seeing the glint of amusement in Daine's eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Daine said innocently. "You ready to go outside now?"

He was very, very reluctant, but there weren't anymore excuses for avoiding the inevitable. "Let's go then," he said shortly.

"They're really not that bad, the chickens," Daine told him as she followed him outside. "They just startle easily, and go a bit silly."

"Go a bit silly?" Numair asked dryly.

Daine shrugged. "It's in their nature. They don't have very big brains, you know, so you can't blame them for being a tad dumb."

Privately Numair thought the chickens only played dumb to hide their murderous intentions, but Daine apparently believed them to be quite harmless.

"So what do we do?" Numair asked when they were outside in the yard.

The big dog Tahoi attached himself to Daine's side, wagging his tail happily when she scratched behind his ears. "Feed them first, then they won't notice so much when we take their eggs. Onua said she keeps their food in the barn."

Numair frowned, following Daine. How exactly, he wondered, did someone keep worms alive in a barn to feed to chickens?

Inside the barn was dusty and smelly and more than a little creepy. "I'll just wait out here," he told Daine. The girl, her head not even reaching his shoulders, tilted her head up to look at him enquiringly. "Someone needs to keep watch."

"For what?" she asked shortly. "It's best you see where she keeps the food, Numair. Tomorrow I'll probably not be here to help you. There's nothing in here anyway, Onua said she put the cows and goats out a few a days ago because the weather's turned warm."

The cows and goats might be gone, Numair thought, but their smell certainly wasn't. He wrinkled his rather long nose in disgust and followed Daine into the musty building. He sneezed several times, the sound seeming to bounce around the dark room. Daine paused and surveyed the room, and then made a small noise of pleasure.

"There," she said, pointing at something Numair could barely make out.

She led the way to whatever she'd seen – a large metal drum, Numair realised – and pushed off its lid. Inside was a very large sack. Daine reached inside and opened it, revealing a strange mix of seeds and little pellets. "What is that?" he asked.

"Wheat, layer pellets, and I think there's some corn in there too. Good."

"Where are the worms?" Numair asked.

"The what?" Daine responded blankly.

"I thought we were feeding the chickens."

"We are."

"Don't chickens eat worms?"

She snorted, and then started to laugh. "You really have no idea, do you?" she managed between her giggles. Numair thought she had a very nice laugh, he just didn't like it directed at himself.

"About what?"

"Anything at all. You are by far the strangest man I have ever met."

Ignoring her comment, Numair examined a large container of the seed mix she'd scooped out of the bag. "So the chickens eat that?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes," she said. "Chickens do eat worms, Numair, but they find those for themselves. We feed them wheat and corn, but the layer pellets have a few extras added in to keep them a little healthier and help them lay more eggs. Too much wheat isn't good for them."

"Here," she said, handing him the small container. "I'll let you feed them, that way you'll see that they're friendly."

"How do you know so much about all of this?" he asked as he followed her outside.

"I lived on a farm," she told him. "It was only me, Ma and Grandda, so I had to help with the animals. Ma said I spent more time with them than people," the girl added.

Numair nodded. "People can be fairly depressing to be around," he said agreeably. "But at least they don't try to peck your fingers off, or spit on your sweaters."

Daine grinned at up him, her eyes amused. "But they don't lie to you either, or pretend to like you if they don't," she pointed out.

Numair pursed his lips. "I've found that generally they don't like me anyway."

"That's just because you don't give them a chance," the girl said practically. "Look, I'll show you."

Numair had been so involved with the conversation that he hadn't realised the chickens had been gathering around them. He looked down now, and to his horror he saw almost every one of the little monsters – about twenty, he guessed – gathered around his and Daine's feet. They were clucking and cackling and ruffling their feathers, prancing around and eyeing him with calculating looks.

"They're planning something," he whispered to Daine, eyeing the chickens right back.

She giggled. "They want their food."

"So they're planning to eat me because they're hungry?" he demanded, still in a whisper.

"No, silly, they recognise the bucket you're holding, and they can probably smell the feed in it."

Numair stood, clutching the bucket with sweaty fingers. "What do I do?" he asked warily.

"Scatter it. Like this." Daine took a handful of feed from his bucket and gently scattered it over the gravel. It seemed as though the chickens exploded in a flurry of activity, their cackling suddenly furious and squawks shattering through the air. Numair stepped back hastily, trying to avoid their frantic pecking, only to realise too late that there was another damn chicken behind him.

For the second time in two days, Numair lost his balance and fell over a chicken. This time though, he didn't bang his head on a rock. Instead, he somehow managed to tip the bucket of seed over himself completely.

The chickens, used to human company, were not in the least bit concerned that their food was scattered all over and around a large human male. They attacked it gleefully, pecking it up as fast as they could with their sharp little beaks.

Numair screamed at the feel of their beaks nipping at his skin and their feet climbing over his chest. He flailed and squawked as loudly as the chickens, struggling desperately to get rid of the mean little beasties. He pulled himself up; wildly batting his arms out at chickens that refused to leave him alone.

Daine, he was disgusted to see, was almost lying on the ground laughing at him.

Sitting in the dirt with chickens climbing over his legs, Numair glared at her, thinking that maybe Onua had hired this girl deliberately to make his life a misery. It took him several seconds to realise that as he was glaring at her, the chickens were still climbing over him. And then Numair had his epiphany – the chickens _weren't_ killing him. In fact, they weren't even paying any attention to him. Instead they clucked and fluttered amongst themselves, fighting for the best of the seed still scattered around him.

"You see?" Daine said merrily, "they're not bad at all, chickens."

There was a small amount of food still left in the bucket. He tipped it into his hand and held it out for the chickens, smiling with delight as they delicately pecked it out of his hands. No, Numair thought to himself, he supposed she was right. Chickens weren't so bad after all.

---

"So tell me about yourself," Numair said as he picked his way along, following Daine.

"What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "Where are you from? You said Onua hired you."

"I'm from Snowsdale, in Galla. Mountain country up north," she said easily. "I already told you I lived on a farm."

"Why come so far south?" he asked, curious about the girl. She seemed very young to be travelling so far alone.

"My family died," the girl said stiffly. "I had nothing to stay for, so I left with Cloud."

"How did they die?" The words popped out before Numair could stop them. He wasn't usually one to care about whether questions hurt or were tactless, but for some strange reason the girl's evident distress made him want to know and understand what had happened to her.

Daine was nice, he thought, sweet and kind and very, very different to the sort of women he was used to associating with. Numair smiled inwardly, thinking that Varice Kingsford probably didn't even know how to feed a chicken. He conveniently forgot that he hadn't known either until an hour or so before.

"The house caught fire," Daine said dully. "I wasn't home, and Grandda was sick. The police said Ma tried to get him out, but the smoke…"

"I'm sorry," Numair said quietly. And he was sorry, he thought, looking at Daine's shadowed eyes and soft lips that trembled. "Was it long ago?"

She shook her head mutely, picking up her pace and moved ahead of him. So he wouldn't see that she was crying, Numair realised. He was surprised to feel a whisper of sorrow that she had lost so much.

He let her pull ahead of him on the trail, a strange understanding of her emotion dawning inside him. He was surprised by the feeling – it wasn't often that understood people or actually _liked_ them. He liked Alanna and her husband George well enough, and tolerated Jon and Thayet, but there weren't many people at all who Numair actually liked. He wondered if he liked Daine, and then thought it silly. He was a grown man, for goodness sake, almost thirty, and she wasn't even twenty yet. Thirty year old men didn't have teenaged girls as friends.

He caught up with Daine and found her lying on her stomach at the small pond near the back of the house.

"What are you-"

"Shh!" she whispered, smiling up at him with excited eyes. "Come and have a look!"

He wanted to argue that he didn't want to dirty his clothes (such as they were), but his earlier revelation of realising he liked Daine caused him to shut his mouth and drop silently to his knees beside her. He stretched out on the ground, mimicking her pose, and stared into the water with her.

"What am I looking at?" he asked quietly.

She pointed to the opposite side of the pond. Three little ducklings, not yellow like Numair had always thought they'd be, but striped brown and black with soft grey underbellies, were playing in the shallows, shaking their little heads when their beaks dipped into the water. Daine stifled a giggle as she watched them, and Numair smiled with amusement. They really were cute, he thought, and wondered why he'd never liked animals before.

---

_Hope you enjoyed – please let me know what you thought!_


	8. Chapter 8

**eight**

There was no sign of either Onua or Numair at Onua's little house. A little niggle of worry flickered in George's stomach, but it faded immediately when a very familiar, very large dog came tearing around the side of the house, yipping in welcome.

"Well now, Tahoi," George said, dropping to his knees and ruffling the dog's ears. The dog wuffed his approval and tried to lick at George's cheek, but George wasn't that fond of animals that he welcomed their over-zealous displays of affection.

"Where's Onua, Tahoi?" George asked, even knowing the dog wouldn't answer. The dog woofed happily, tail wagging so hard his rump rocked from side to side. George laughed, gave the dog another scratch, and set off for the barn behind the house.

A strange sight halfway to the barn stopped George dead in his tracks. Numair Salmalín, one of the most sophisticated and arrogant men George had ever had the privilege of knowing, was lying on his stomach on the ground. What was more, George thought with surprise, was Numair's appearance.

The normally smooth hair was tumbling in wavy curls over his bare shoulders, bits of what looked like hay, grass and feathers catching on the black strands. The trousers on Nuamir's bottom half looked like something scrounged out of a second hand clothing bin, and were miles to short for the tall man's long legs.

Numair, completely oblivious to George's presence, had his legs cross at his knees and his feet waving in the air like a school girl lying on the grass gossiping with her best friends. The short trousers ended somewhere below Numair's knees and on his feet were a horrendously discoloured pair of thick socks, and loafers that George was certain had once been immaculately clean but were now covered in… George didn't like to think what they were covered in.

George stared at the man, not entirely certain if this was actually Numair Salmalín, or an impostor that just looked a lot like him. Narrowing his eyes, surprised by the spectacle in front of him, George almost didn't notice the young girl lying next to Numair. She was talking animatedly, her boot clad feet swinging just as carelessly as Numair's, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

Numair laughed loudly, unaware that he was being watched.

George blinked.

Numair, was laughing? Loudly?

"Now this is something I never thought I would see," George announced loudly.

Numair and the girl jumped up so fast George was worried they might give themselves whiplash. Standing, George could see the girl was head and shoulders shorter than Numair, and apparently considerably younger as well. He raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at Numair. George knew Numair was a ladies man, but this girl was hardly out of school!

"George!" Numair said loudly, obviously stunned into silence.

"It's not often you don't have a lot to say," George commented dryly.

"What are you doing here?" Numair asked.

"Alanna mentioned she'd bundled you away so quickly you hadn't even had a chance to pack some clothes. I took pity on you and brought some things you might need."

"Like a hairdryer?" the girl asked innocently.

Numair, George was amazed to see, actually blushed.

"Hairdryer, straightener _and_ your shaving cream," George informed Numair cheerily.

To George's absolute surprise, Numair's face scrunched up in a frown instead of a smile. "Was that… you know… a good idea?" he asked uncertainly.

"What? The shaving cream?"

"No," Numair said with a trace of us usual disdain, "coming here. With… you know?"

"Oh," George raised his eyebrows.

The girl, obviously intelligent enough to recognise a poorly masked private conversation, took the opportunity to excuse herself, telling them she'd have the kettle on when they were ready to make their way inside.

George watched her go with more than a touch of curiosity. "Who is that?" he asked.

"Daine," Numair said dismissively. "Are you sure this was a good idea, George? I thought Alanna wanted me completely hidden and forgotten until the trial. What if someone followed you?"

"Don't worry," George said cheerfully. "They think we're hiding you down in the tropics. At one of those big resorts with lots of cocktails and girls in bikinis."

"I should be so lucky," Numair sighed woefully.

George grinned wickedly. "But you look like you're having a lovely time."

Numair, covered in mud, filth, and streaks that looked suspiciously like animal droppings, scowled darkly. "Your wife, George, is the person I should be worried about. I think she wants me dead more than Ozorne does."

"No, Numair, Alanna adores you. She thinks you're marvellous fun."

Numair continued scowling. "She thinks I'm marvellous fun because she cannot stop tormenting me. Your wife is a menace, George."

"A very beautiful menace," George agreed happily. "Come on, let's go get your stuff out of my car and I'll fill you in on how things are going with the investigation."

---

"I never knew a man owned so much stuff," a calm voice said from behind George.

George turned to see the young woman, Daine, standing in the doorway of the kitchen watching him with barely disguised amusement.

"Numair is as vain as peacock and arrogant as a panther," George said dryly.

"You know, I _like_ peacocks," Numair yelled down the rickety stairs.

George felt his eyebrows life with amazement again as his lips parted in a broad grin. "Do you even know what a peacock looks like, Numair?" he yelled back.

"A big, colourful chicken. I like chickens."

The girl, for some strange reason, found that hilarious and burst into a bout of giggles.

"I didn't think Numair liked animals," George remarked.

"He didn't," the girl agreed, still grinning. "Can I get you a drink now, or would you rather wait until Numair is done in the bathroom?"

"If we wait until Numair is done in the bathroom I'll be here all day," George said. "A coffee sounds wonderful. I'm George Cooper, by the way, Alanna's husband."

"I'm Daine, but I only met Alanna for a few minutes, I'm afraid," the girl confessed, walking into the kitchen. "Onua only hired me yesterday – it was a fairly busy day."

There was a thud and a muffled curse from upstairs.

"I can imagine," George agreed blandly.

The girl grinned again, offering him a mug of hot coffee. George smiled his thanks, added some cream, and sipped at it appreciatively. He studied the girl while he drank, impressed with the steadiness of her eyes and the directness of her personality. Honest, he decided, and probably quite loyal.

"You're staring," she said not two seconds later, her eyebrows raised in a mild accusation.

"Sorry," he apologised. "I was just trying to work out who you are."

"I'm Daine," she said slowly, frowning. "You know already know that."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I do a lot of undercover work; it's part of my job to try and analyse people and assess their strengths and weaknesses."

She raised her eyebrows, apparently mildly offended with his intrusion. "I'm not under investigation, am I?"

"No," he admitted.

"Then why analyse me?"

"Habit," George smiled ruefully. "If it's any consolation, if I'm right in what I've guessed, you're a fairly good sort."

He had pegged her right – her curiosity was greater than her offended pride. "So what did you come up with when you analysed me?"

"Honest, calm, someone who's very practical and very intelligent. Not to mention you must have the patience of a saint."

"I'm not very patient at all," the girl said, shaking her head.

"Could have fooled me. You had Numair lying on the ground in the mud, laughing. I've never seen him like that before – most people want to smack him over the head or push him off the nearest cliff. Hardly anyone has the patience to get to know him."

She considered his words carefully. "Most ponies bite and make trouble, but really they're not that bad. It's just their nature."

"You told me the ponies wouldn't hurt me," Numair said from the doorway. George almost fell of his chair – Numair had been gone less than minutes; normally when he went to get 'cleaned up' he was gone for almost an hour. What on earth had happened to the man in the last twenty four hours?

Numair, not the least bit concerned or aware of George's surprise, made his way over to a cupboard and pulled out a mug. He grimaced, rinsed it under freshwater (George was happy to see that something of the pernickety man was still there), and proceeded to make himself a coffee.

Only when he seated himself at the table with George and Daine did he raise a dark eyebrow and deign to break the silence. "And I am not a pony."

---

That night, George was quiet as he was getting ready for bed.

"What are you thinking?" Alanna asked, her violet eyes intent as she gazed at him.

"About Numair, actually," he admitted.

Alanna grinned wickedly. "I meant to ask you – how's he doing up there?"

George grinned in return, his eyes sparkling. "You are a bad, bad woman," he told her primly.

"That's why you love me. But tell me, how close is he to wanting to kill me?"

"You know what the strange thing is?" George asked as he pulled back the bedcovers.

"I'm not a mind reader, George," Alanna said, the first sparks of her impatience beginning to show.

"I think the man might actually _like_ it up there."

Alanna stared at him. "I'm sorry, I thought you just said that Numair Salamalín _likes_ the middle of the wilderness."

"I never said he likes the wilderness," George said calmly, patting the bed beside him. "I said he likes it up there."

"George, stop fooling around and tell me what the hell you're talking about."

"I think that Numair might have found something he's been looking for, without actually realising what he's found."

"George-"

"There's someone there who sees right through his prickles and his barbs. She treats him like he's a naughty pony, and I think he's suddenly curious about the sugar lumps in her pockets."

Alanna's face, tightening in anger seconds before, pulled into a puzzled from. Two breaths later she shook her head and chuckled. "You, laddybuck, talk the strangest nonsense I have ever heard."

"And that," George said as he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward him. "That is why you love me."

---

**authors note: **I usually don't like making direct comments about the direction of my story or having to explain why I've chosen to do some things the way I have while I'm writing, but I've noticed that in the reviews thanks a lot for them guys! a few of you have been questioning Numair's character in my story – specifically his aversion to animals – as well as Daine's apparent liking of chickens.

I'm well aware that in the books Numair knows a lot about animals and likes them, but in this story Numair isn't the same man as the most powerful wizard in Tortall. I've already written a chapter explaining why Numair is the way he is, and I hope that those of you who don't like or understand what I've done will keep an open mind and keep reading to find out. That chapter is coming up soon, as well as the romance I know you guys have been holding out for! I just need to get some of the base setting up chapters out of the way, otherwise nothing will make any sense.

Also, someone mentioned that Daine loathed chickens. In the novel I agree that Daine doesn't _love_ chickens, however she doesn't hate them. If you remember, she saved them several times. Daine is someone who loves all animals, and I don't see her not liking chickens. Yes, she likes them less than she likes other animals, but they are still animals. Besides, this Daine isn't a wildmage so she can't see how truly stupid chickens really are.

And for the record? I love my chickens, even though I think you'd be hard to pressed to find a stupider bird. Other than a turkey. I really don't like turkeys.

And this AN was almost as long as the chapter! Please keep the reviews coming guys – I do read them and consider them and take into account what you think, and I think that makes the story a lot better.

Cheers & many thanks,

Silf


	9. Chapter 9

**nine**

Onua was tired. Upset, angry, and uncomfortable could also be used to describe her mood. Normally standing on the deck and watching the sunrise had always given her a feeling peace. She loved watching the mist dissipate and the valley slowly wake up after a night's long slumber.

But today Onua was restless. Her coffee, steaming and rich not long before, was now lukewarm and not very appealing at all. Onua hated cold coffee, and she was disgusted with herself for not drinking it before it cooled down. She debated for several minutes whether to drink the tepid liquid or just get rid of it, and as she considered the brew became colder and colder.

She scowled and emptied the mug over the deck. Now she'd have to make another coffee; Onua didn't like functioning without a morning brew. About to go inside and make herself a fresh drink, she was surprised when a light tread on the deck behind her indicated someone was already up.

"I saw you get rid of yours," Daine said, offering another cup with steaming contents.

"That was very quick," Onua said, accepting the drink. "Thanks."

Daine smiled and moved to stand beside Onua on the deck, taking in the view as she drank. "I love it here," Daine said softly, staring out over the hills. "Your valley is beautiful, Onua. Like paradise. It's so peaceful it feels like time is standing still." Daine blushed, as though she wasn't used to rambling so poetically, and raised her coffee to her lips to take a long drink.

"I fought hard for it," Onua said quietly, staring at the land. "I'd fight for it again in a heart beat."

Daine fidgeted next to Onua, as though she was struggling to find words.

"Out with it," Onua said simply.

"Am I doing something wrong, Onua?" Daine finally asked.

"Wrong? Heavens, no," Onua said firmly. "I told you already, you're worth your weight in gold. What makes you think I'm not happy with your work?"

Daine's eyes, when Onua finally met them, were calm but still concerned. "You just… you seem different. Not as happy as you were."

The girl was speaking the truth, Onua knew. "It's not you, Daine," Onua said finally, smiling at the girl. "I promise if you were doing something I wasn't happy with, I'd tell you."

"It's Numair," Daine said shrewdly. "You don't like him."

She didn't like Numair. He was rude and egocentric and seemed to think the world revolved around him.

"I knew a man like Numair once," Onua said finally. "Devastatingly handsome, intelligent. Very rich and sophisticated. Of course, all the girls were in love with him."

"I still don't understand why you don't like him," Daine said finally. "I know he can be difficult-"

Onua snorted at that statement.

"-but he's really not that bad."

"Daine, you say that about everything," Onua said kindly, a smile touching her lips. "You say that snakes aren't all that bad, it's just in their nature."

"But it is their nature," Daine pointed out practically.

"Exactly. Numair is a man, Daine, the type of man who has everything he wants and will get everything he wants. Men like that aren't nice people. They're not as harmless as they appear, and the arrogance isn't just an endearing quality. It's in their nature to do things that hurt."

"Numair hasn't done anything though," Danie said. "Well, other than be rude and use all the hot water."

Onua scowled – she had not appreciated the cold shower she'd had to endure last night thanks to Numair taking two showers, even if the first was a 'very quick one'.

"Not yet, I know, but they all start off blinding young girls with their charm and their good looks. I've told you before and I'll tell you again, Daine: be careful. He's dangerous."

Onua turned her gaze back to the valley, wishing the unease would go away.

"I think you're wrong, Onua," Daine said quietly. "It's not right to blame Numair for something someone else did wrong."

The girl left before she could see the tears in Onua's eyes. Angry, the woman wiped them away and made her way to the barn without bothering to have breakfast.

---

They started work before Numair had emerged from his room, just like they did the day before. Onua had left a note on the kitchen tabling detailing that Numair was to feed the chickens again and collect their eggs, and while he was at it there was a small vegetable patch she'd planted a few days ago that needed to be weeded.

Onua wasn't aware that Daine had also left a note for Numair telling him that she'd saved him some breakfast (pancakes and bacon) and it was in the microwave – all he had to was heat it up and eat.

"What are we doing today, Onua?" Daine asked, trotting to keep up with the older woman's long strides.

"We'll take that ride we were going to have yesterday afternoon," Onua said. "We're not going too far, I just want to give you an idea of the layout and the sorts of things we need to do."

They saddled their ponies quickly – Onua selected a spirited little bay mare with a sparkle in her eye and a playful swish in her tail for Daine, and chose a larger gelding for herself.

Seated in the saddle, with the smell of horse, leather and polish in her nose, Onua felt her spirits rise almost immediately. This – riding along the shady little paths – was what Onua loved best. She enjoyed training the ponies, teaching the riders, and holding her camps and competitions, but if she had her choice she'd spend all day in the saddle and just ride and ride and ride to wherever her mount might take her.

"The house and these fields are on the south eastern border of the property," Onua explained to Daine as they rode along a track headed north west. "If you head southwest from here you'll run almost straight down the valley and into Stefan's front lounge. There's a track that runs due north right up into the mountains too; years ago I used to take the more advanced riders up that way for a two week camp. Now we just follow this track and camp in the foothills for a few days."

"Why don't you go up into the mountains anymore?" Daine asked curiously.

Onua could tell by the look in the girl's eyes that she was keen to explore the northern track. Onua admired the girl's enthusiasm and interest, and was happy to see the teenager shared a kindred affection for the mountainous country.

"The north track isn't as safe as it used to be; there have been some rockslides and fallen trees due to some of the heavier storms. It takes almost two days of solid riding to reach the old cabin there – that's where we used to camp, see – and the same coming back. The trail is tough and it takes a lot out of riders and ponies alike; my camps are known because they're fun and everyone can do them – that's why it's easier to go to the foothills. Safer too, and closer to help if anything goes wrong."

Daine nodded thoughtfully, but Onua could still see her thinking about the north track.

"Maybe I'll take you up there before the first camp," Onua offered. The idea appealed to her – getting away from the house and the worries for a while might help put things back into perspective. And doubtlessly, she thought with a bitter stab of relief, Numair would not be at all interested in accompanying them.

"You're scowling again," Daine said mildly, a wicked glint in her eye. "Anyone would think you were contemplating taking Numair up there and accidentally losing him."

Actually, Onua thought as the gelding picked his way through a stream, that sounded like an even better idea.

---

They reached the area where Onua normally held the camps by mid morning. The women dismounted and removed the tack from the horses, letting them into a large corral built around a cold stream and full of thick grass.

"This is lovely," Daine said, looking around once the horses were taken care of.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

Onua led the girl around the camp, showing her the obstacle courses, training ring and area where the tents would be pitched.

"You built all of this by yourself?" Daine asked at the end of the tour, clearly impressed.

Onua felt a surge of pride. "Yes," she said. "Though Stefan and Sarge helped with the heavy building, and Alanna helped me plan the obstacle courses."

"I think it's brilliant," Daine said honestly, smiling. "It's no wonder your camps are so well known."

Onua smiled happily. "We'll come back down here in a few days and start on the repairs. There are a few jumps that look a little worse for wear, and I'm not happy with the ground around the second trench; could be dangerous and give way when a pony does the jump."

There was a large crack from the corral, startling the two women. Daine's mare, tail swishing innocently, was standing outside the corral with a broken wooden paling hanging awkwardly from its nails.

"And I think the corral's fencing needs some work," Onua added dryly. "That one is your pony Daine, you get to catch her."

---

**authors note: **I know in the books Onua and Numair were friends, but this is a different lifetime and a different story. I like doing things different – please trust me not to twist the characters too much out of shape – I promise I'll put them back together reasonably well:-P

As usual, I love your comments and your feedback.


	10. Chapter 10

**ten**

They had returned back to the house for a fairly late lunch – Numair had apparently had a change of heart regarding his position in the household, and had attempted to prepare them a meal when they failed in time to prepare him one.

Daine, ravenously hungry at the time (though as Onua pointed out, there wasn't really anything unusual about that), was dismayed to discover that just because Numair had attempted to prepare lunch didn't mean it was actually edible. The only bits of egg still recognisable in the pan (apparently he'd been trying to make them omelettes) were pieces of eggshell that crumbled when Daine flicked them with her fingernail.

They had salad sandwiches again, though Numair did make them an excellent iced tea as compensation.

After their late lunch, Daine had been assigned to raking the arena while Numair was assigned to replanting Onua's vegetable garden – he'd pulled the seedlings up along with the weeds.

Daine was smiling to herself about Onua's face when she realised what had happened to her plants. Daine groaned and stretched, trying to straighten out her back. The arena, a large sandy area neatly fenced and filled with soft white sand, was a lot bigger than it looked. In front of her lay the sand she had already raked smooth and clear or sticks and stones that might get caught in an unsuspecting pony's hoof. She'd done about three quarters of the area, and her back was complaining loudly.

"What are you doing?" Numair asked from the fence.

He was wearing jeans and boots Onua had bought him the previous afternoon, but Daine was fairly certain the emerald green sweater wasn't something Onua would have chosen. Must have been in the bags George had brought, she thought, and why was she studying his clothes anyway? She had to admit, he looked pretty good.

"I'm raking," she said.

"I can see _that_. Why?"

"So I get the stones and sticks out. They hurt the ponies' hooves."

"It looks like hard work."

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised you know what hard work looks like, Numair."

He grinned at her, and she was started by how _nice_ his face was when he smiled. It was completely different to the scowling, sulking man from two days before. "It doesn't look _that_ hard."

"Come and give me a hand, then."

"What do I do?" he asked, almost pleased to be told to help.

Like a puppy, she thought, a curious bumbling puppy spoilt rotten, but sweetness to his core. "There's another rake in the barn."

He trotted away obediently, and she stood resting against her own rake until he returned bearing his. "Sift through the sand like this," she demonstrated, her tired arms complaining, "and if you find any stones or sticks or anything hard, just lob it over there." She pointed to corner behind them now littered with small stones. "The sticks don't fly as good, so them you might have to dump over the fence where you are."

"Your grammar is atrocious," he told her, pushing his rake forward. "Like this?"

"That's fine. I thought you were gardening?"

"Onua said my lines weren't straight enough, so I was sent away in disgrace."

Daine grinned. "My Grandda liked his lines straight too – I used a string to get them right in the end."

Numair gave her a sidelong glance. "He sounds like an interesting man."

He was, Daine thought, and for the first time in weeks the memory wasn't overcome with an onrushing of grief. It was still painful and bitter to think he was dead, but the good memories were becoming brighter than the bad.

Numair wasn't as fast or as effective as her, but Daine figured that when she went through the arena again in a few weeks she'd pick out anything he missed then because it was probably too deep to cause a hassle in the near future. They worked silently as the sun started to lower itself in the sky, heading toward late afternoon.

"Good work," Onua called as they were racing each other for the last piece of corner. "I think that'll do for the day, Daine. I'm going to get started on dinner; you're free to do what you want."

"Thank you, Onua!" Daine called happily.

"What are you going to do now?" Numair asked, following along behind her as she walked up the track to the barn.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking of going for a ride," she admitted.

He frowned. "You've already been for a ride this morning," he reminded her.

"I was thinking of taking Cloud," Daine said, not really paying attention. "I saw a stream that looked good for a swim, and-"

"Is it safe to go off riding by yourself?" he interrupted.

She looked at him, completely confused. "Of course! What, were you going to volunteer to come with me if it wasn't?"

"Oh, no!" he said hastily, shaking his head, "I can't ride."

"Well," Daine said briskly, "that won't do at all. Wait here, I'll be right back."

She left him standing on the track, looking after her with a slightly worried expression on his face. Daine, however, didn't pay his confusion any attention – she'd had a brilliant idea.

"Onua?" she called, peering into the kitchen from the backdoor.

"What is it, Daine?"

"I noticed you have a pair of geldings in the field next to the pony."

"I do," Onua agreed. "In case I have bigger riders that are too heavy for the ponies."

"May we use one of them?"

"We?" Onua asked, suspicious.

"I'm going to teach Numair to ride."

Onua laughed. Loudly. "I suggest the spotted gelding for Numair – Spots is as sturdy and unflappable as they come. I might even come and watch this."

Daine grinned. "Just don't laugh too hard when he falls."

---

Spots was, as Onua had said, unflappable. Daine had run back to Numair, dragged him to the barn she had loaded him with tack, and then sent him to the arena while she went to get the gelding.

He'd lipped her hands in welcome and nuzzled her pockets hoping for a treat. "You're lovely," she told him, rubbing the cleft under his jaw. He'd sighed happily and hung his head over her shoulder, smitten for life.

Daine chuckled and slipped the halter over his head. He sighed again, in resignation, and stood patiently as she fixed the buckles and clipped the lead rope into place. Several hands taller than Cloud it was a touch tricker to get onto his bareback, but Daine had been riding for almost as long as she'd been walking and managed it without any problems.

His walk was long and ambling, a distinguished gentleman on a Sunday afternoon stroll. Perfect for a beginner, Daine thought as she patted his neck encouragingly. Numair was waiting for her with a look bordering on pure panic smeared across his face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked again as Daine slid of Spots' back and pulled the rope gate shut behind her.

"Of course it is, Numair," she told him. "This is Spots, Numair, and he's going to be your new best friend."

Numair looked doubtful. Spots snorted and turned to Daine as though to ask her what on earth she'd been thinking.

"He's lovely, Numair," she said. "Come and say hi like I showed you before."

The man looked very reluctant, but he held out his hand gamely. Spots nuzzled it with his velvet nose and lipped gently at the cuff of Numair's now grimy sweater. "See? He's lovely, Numair. Give him a carrot."

"Give him a carrot? Daine, the only carrots I've seen today were three days old and I thought they were weeds."

She laughed, and pulled a carrot out of her pocket. "Here," she said. Spots, seeing the treat, flicked his ears forward and nudged Numair expectantly.

"Oof," Numair grunted, stepping backwards in surprise. Spots followed, eager for his carrot.

"Daine!" Numair called, panic clear on his voice.

"Wrap your hand around the bottom of the carrot, make sure your fingers don't stick up," Daine advised, watching with amusement.

"Like this?" Numair held the carrot up. Before Daine could warn him, Spots reached forward and grabbed hold of it, biting it delicately with his teeth. The carrot crunched juicily, and Numair's face turned pale.

"Did he bite you?" Daine demanded.

"No, but I felt his teeth. Daine, I _felt_ his _teeth_!"

"He didn't bite you, you're fine. You've still got all your fingers, and Spots wants the rest of his carrot."

"This pony is dangerous, Daine!"

"This pony is a horse, Numair, and he's not dangerous at all."

"He wants to eat my fingers!"

"Would you stop squawking for just a minute and listen?" Daine snapped with frustration. "Give me the carrot."

Numair obeyed silently, warily watching the horse-pony's head as it followed the carrot's progression. "When the carrot is still long you hold it like this," Daine said, demonstrating. "Keep your fingers low and out of the way."

"Well, I know that _now,_" Numair muttered.

"Now, see how it's a little piece left? Hold it like this, and just let him pick it up with his lips. There? See? That's not so bad, is it?"

Numair was scowling. "I think this is a dumb idea, Daine."

She glared at him. "I think you're just being difficult because you're scared to try something new. Spots is a horse, Numair, not a wild animal who wants to tear your head off. Stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking," Numair snarled.

"You're acting like a spoilt child, and nothing has even happened."

Spots snorted in agreement, nodding his heads vigorously. "You see?" Daine said, laughing. "He agrees."

Daine watched Numair, standing in his brand new jeans and ruined green sweater, and realised that this was hard for him. He'd never been around animals or spent days digging in soil with his bare hands. The skin of his palms was blistered, and while his figure was definitely one to be admired, it was the build of a man who spent more time inside a gym that one outside doing hard labour.

"I'm sorry," Daine said quietly. "I didn't mean to get annoyed at you."

"It's okay," Numair said, his voice unsettled. "What do I do now?"

She showed him how to put on a bridle, teaching to make sure it wasn't buckled too tightly and the straps were properly positioned. When she put the saddle on she made sure he knew to smooth the saddle blanket first, and when she tightened the girth she made him run his fingers under the band to check that none of Spots' skin was pinched.

"You have to make sure it's tight," Daine said, tugging on the girth. "Some horses are smart, the swallow air and blow out their bellies. Then when you get on the saddle is loose and you end up on the ground wondering what happened. But Spots doesn't do that, do you boy?" She patted the gelding's neck and turned to Numair with a smile on her lips.

"So you think you can do that?" she asked.

Numair looked doubtful.

"It's okay, I'm not going to make you do it over and over again today, but you need to learn how to saddle them properly for yourself."

Numair nodded weakly.

"Okay, ready to get up?"

He swallowed, and she was scared he would baulk like a frightened pony, but he nodded his head stubbornly and asked, "How?"

She made a cradle with her hands and rested it on her thigh. "We always mount up on the left side. Put your left foot in my hands and I'll give you a boost; make sure when you swing your right leg over you swing nice and high and don't kick him in the rump. They don't like being kicked anymore than you do."

Numair looked doubtful. "I have to step on you?"

"Only for a few seconds," she said. "I'll help push you up."

"I'm too heavy," he said flatly, shaking his head. "Isn't there a ladder or something?"

She giggled. "Stop being silly, Numair, and step up. You won't hurt me."

Spots, getting bored simply standing around, worked at his bit and raised a hind leg to scratch at the girth. "Stop that, you," Daine said, nudging him with her shoulder. The horse huffed in annoyance and stamped the foot down, impatient.

"How do you get up without help?" Numair wanted to know.

"I put my foot in the stirrup and swing myself up."

"I'll do that then. I'm not stepping on you, Daine."

Daine sighed. "It's not as easy as it looks, Numair."

There was a stubborn jut to his jaw that looked surprisingly similar to the jut in Daine's when her mind was made up. "I can do it, Daine."

"Suit yourself."

She held Spots' reins, and helped steady the stirrup as Numair tried to lift his foot and get it in the metal loop. His feet were huge, Daine thought in awe as she watched him force his foot into the stirrup.

"Now what?" he panted, balancing awkwardly on one foot, fingers clutching at the saddle to trying and keep his balance.

"Jump up and swing your right leg over his rump," Daine instructed. "Try not to kick him, and be careful with your left foot else you'll dig it into his side and he won't like that either."

Numair lurched himself up, but he wasn't as agile as he thought he was. His left foot kicked into Spots' side and his right didn't make it anywhere near Spots' back. Spots whickered in protest, dancing sideways to try and dislodge the pressure in his ribs. Numair, foot still in the stirrup, was dragged along, hopping and fighting for his balance.

Daine steadied the horse, trying hard to fight the smile from her lips.

"Try again," she instructed. "And this time, try to get higher."

Numair tried twice more, each time getting a little higher than the time before, but still digging his toes into Spots' side and kicking the poor gelding with his big booted feet. The fourth time he tried he managed to get his leg to swing over. He still kicked Spots in the rump and dug into his ribs, but Numair was sitting in the saddle and looking quite surprised at that fact.

"I did it?" he asked.

"You did it," Daine agreed.

He grinned broadly.

"Don't do anything," Daine told him. She measured the stirrups and shortened them, and then showed him how to position his feet so that if he fell his feet wouldn't get stuck in the stirrups.

"Ready to go for a ride?" she asked him.

He clutched desperately at the saddle. "Ready," he said.

"Hold the reins, like this. Now don't pull them too tight. Good. Okay, just relax Numair, I'll walk him. You don't have to do anything. Just sit and get used to the feel."

Spots swished his tail and shook his head, eager to get going. Keeping a careful eye on Numair, she led the gelding around the arena.

Numair's seat was terrible – his elbows were flying and his toes almost ninety degrees in the stirrups, with his weight tipped forward in the saddle and reins miles too long. Daine grinned, and let Spots around again.

"Onua!" Numair called suddenly. "I'm riding!" he exclaimed with a boyish delight.

"I can see that," Onua said dryly, but Daine was pleased to see a smile on her lips and lurking around her eyes.

"I'm riding a pony," Numair said, almost happily.

"Horse," Daine corrected with a smile on her lips.

Spots' only comment was to flick his ears back and forth.

---

_And very soon we start getting to the good stuff, I promise! As usual, reviews are adored, particularly ones with some constructive criticism._


	11. Chapter 11

**eleven**

Numair had never ever been as sore or as tired in his entire life as he was now. Everything ached, and places he didn't even know he had ached. Blisters on his hands from the brief bout of raking with Daine burnt and stung, and his shoulder muscles screamed with protest each time he tried to move.

And his backside… Numair winced.

"A little sore?" Onua asked almost sympathetically.

"You have no idea," he said with relish.

"Oh, I think I do," she disagreed. "I remember learning to ride."

"You do?" he asked, surprised. He thought she had always ridden, same as Daine.

"I was a few years older than Daine is now, when I first learnt," Onua admitted, standing up and gathering their dinner plates. "Daine, I had a call from Stefan while you were teaching Numair to ride. I'm going down to help him with one of his mares tomorrow; she's too small to take his weight so he wants me to have a go with her. Do you mind checking the ponies by yourself?"

"Not at all," Daine said quite happily. "Was there anything else you wanted me to do?"

Onua shook her head. "When I've finished with Stefan's mare, I'll have him and Sarge come spend a day with us down at the campsite fixing the corral and some of the jumps. It works out quite well – we should have most of the big work taken care of by then, so it's only small odd jobs. Take the day easy tomorrow, you've worked hard."

"We'll do the dishes," Daine said firmly, much to Numair's horror. "You have an early night."

Onua smiled her thanks. "Don't rush out of bed tomorrow, Daine, take your time and sleep in." She glanced at Numair. "I don't need to tell you to sleep in," she added.

"I've been getting up early," Numair protested. "Earlier," he amended.

Onua shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Good night, you two."

Numair couldn't force himself to move, but it wasn't right, letting Daine do all the dishes on top of her day's work. He wasn't entirely sure how she kept going after so long a day, looking as fresh as a daisy.

"Aren't you tired?" he demanded, trying to make himself stand up. His legs refused to obey.

"Not as tired as you," she said cheekily. "Come on you big lug, you're not getting out of it."

Numair sighed and hauled himself to his feet. He'd been beginning to think the wilderness wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but the primitiveness of the house still left something to be desired. Maybe he'd by Onua a TV set and a dishwasher as a Christmas present, he thought aimlessly as he picked up a soapy plate and started to wipe it dry.

---

"Why are you so interested in the stars?"

Numair looked up from the book, startled by the question. "I'm sorry?"

"The stars. You read about them all the time. Why?" Daine asked curiously.

"I'm curious about what they are," Numair said finally. "A lot of places and people believe that the stars and the planets determine things about our lives. The zodiac, for example."

"Do you believe that?" Daine asked doubtfully.

Numair smiled. "I don't know what I believe."

"Tell me about them," Daine asked hopefully. "The stars and the planets."

"I can do better than that," Numair said gruffly. He closed the book and set it by the small coffee table, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Muscles, stiff and sore, protested loud and long. "God, Daine, I think I broke my butt riding today."

Daine grinned. "Wait until your first fall. Then you'll really feel like you broke something, especially your pride."

"The chickens already broke that," Numair said dryly. "Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to teach you about the stars, Daine. Do you want to know or not?"

---

It was cool outside, and damp – Numair was grateful that Daine had insisted on stopping to find an old blanket. They were lying on their backs and staring up at the sky; Numair hadn't seen a sky so studded with stars in a long, long time.

"I forgot how much better the real thing is," he admitted, his voice sounding too loud in the silence. "The pictures in the books just don't make it real."

"So tell me about the books," Daine offered.

"How much do you know, before I shoot my mouth off and find you know it all already?" Numair asked dryly.

"Not much. Grandda taught me the 'Dipper, so I could find my way around, and I know Orion."

"It's too early in the year for Orion," Numair said.

"I know."

He smiled to himself. "Do you want me to teach you or not?"

She fell silent. "Okay, we're in early spring and most of the more popular constellations are in hiding for the year. But you see that one over there?"

"Where?" she asked.

He grabbed her hand and lifted it, pointing at a bright star. "That bright one is called the Assellus Australis. It's sort of the middle, where it forks." Her skin was rough and soft at the same time; he wondered how it could be both.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Imagine a straight line up from the Assellus Australis, okay? You see those stars?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good. Now, look at the Assellus Australis again. You see down and to the right there's another bright star? That's where the right fork ends. Back to the Assellus again – follow it down and to the left, the star there is a bit higher than the one on the right, and not quite so bright. That's Cancer the crab."

"Oh."

"You don't sound very impressed."

He imagined he could see her smile in the starlight. "The Dipper was useful, and Orion had a nice story. This is just… stars."

"Cancer has a story too!" Numair said loudly.

"Tell me the story, Numair."

"You heard of Hercules before, from the Greek mythology?"

"Of course I've heard of Hercules," Daine said scornfully. "I'm not completely uneducated, you know."

"Well, then you'll know that Hercules was set twelve tasks by King Eurystheus as penance for murdering his own wife and children in a fit of madness – which, incidentally was brought on by Hera, Zeus' consort, you do know that Zeus was Hercule's father, and that Hercule's would have been-"

"The stars, Numair, tell me _that_ story."

"Right. So, Hercules was given twelve tasks as penance. Well, the second task Hercules was set, was to slay the Lernaean Hydra, a mythical serpent-like beast with no name. While Hercules was battling the Hydra, the goddess Hera - you remember, she's the one who brought on Hercules' initial fit of madness which drove him to-"

"The Hydra?" Daine promted.

"If you keep interrupting me, Daine, I won't get to tell you the story," Numair pointed out.

"You keep getting distracted and telling me the wrong story," she responded. "I want to hear about Cancer."

"Okay. So Hercules had to slay the Hydra. The Hydra lived in a swamp near Lake Lerna, and its lair was filled with poisonous fumes. Hercules fired burning arrows at the beast to draw it out of its lair, and then tried to slay it with a harvesting sickle. The Hydra was almost impossible to slay though, because each time Hercules cut off one of its many heads, two more sprouted from the stump of its neck. Realising that cutting the thing's heads off wasn't working, Hercules turned to his nephew Lolaus for help, who suggested he burn the stumps after cutting off the heads to stop new heads from growing back."

"What about Cancer?" Daine persisted.

"I'm getting to it," Numair said. "Anyway, Hera saw that Hercules was winning and wasn't happy with it at all, so she sent a crab to distract him. Legend has it the crab – Cancer in Latin – grabbed hold of his toes, but the distraction didn't deter Hercules at all, and he slew the beast. Even though Cancer didn't stop Hercules, Hera rewarded the crab by putting it in the sky."

"That's a fair gruesome story," Daine remarked.

"Well, what makes you really feel sorry for Hercules is that Eurystheus found out Hercules had help by way of his cousin, so he tried to say that the task didn't count because he didn't do it by himself. There's some conflict as to whether it was actually ten or twelve tasks that Hercules completed. I read a piece some time ago which-"

"How do you know all this?" Daine interupted, wriggling on the blanket.

"I studied it at university," Numair answered. "Are you cold, Daine?"

"A little," she admitted. "The nights are still cool."

"Come here." He hadn't realised he was still holding her hand, but he tugged on it now to draw her closer to him.

Her body was tense as first when he pulled her into the crook of his arm, but they were silent for a while and she started to relax.

"Tell me about yourself," she requested.

"What do you want to know?"

"You know about me, it's only fair I know about you."

"My family is one of the oldest and richest of the Spanish," Numair said blandly. "My brothers are all succesful businessmen with wineries and families and, ironically enough, stud farms with horseflesh that breeders pay millions for."

"And yet you don't know the first thing about horses?" Daine asked doubtfully.

"I was the one with my head in the stars," Numair murmured. "Never happy to do business or learn the art of fencing. I'm the shame of my family, a disgrace that's only brought out on Christmas Day and at big events like the birth of another nephew or niece. Even then I'm kept closeted away in the library so that my exploits aren't dragged out as frequently as they could be."

"So what do you do now?"

"Nothing," Numair said. For the first time he realised that he wasn't happy doing nothing. "I flit from one aimless task to the next. I study philosphy, astonomy, political science and attend more parties than anyman I know. Sometimes I study biology or physics and try to find something that makes sense. Once I tried lecturing, but the students were absolutely infuriating."

"Doesn't your head hurt from so much studying?" Daine asked dryly.

Numair laughed. "No, but I think maybe I need to find something useful to do."

"Like?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do. It's hard being brilliant at everything, you know," he said. "You can do what you want without needing to pour in your soul, and then move onto the next thing without the slightest tinge of regret."

"It's nice to know you're so modest," Daine said pertly.

"Shut up and look at the stars," Numair ordered.

She did as she was told, and he lay on his back with her snuggled in his arms, wondering if maybe there wasn't more to life than books and parties and fine clothes. Her hair smelt fresh like the scent he was beginning to associate with the breeze as it played throuh the pine trees. He realised he was stroking her arm with his fingers and brushing her hair with his lips. He froze, scared, uncertain.

Daine didn't move though; her body warm and relaxed against his own.

Despite himself, Numair dropped a kiss onto her brow and lay for a while longer under the stars with a wild girl asleep in his arms.

---

_And the romance starts… _

_You all know what I want –wink wink nudge nudge-- _


	12. Chapter 12

**twelve**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Numair asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes.

Daine turned to him, glaring. "Well, if you're so sure it's not a good idea, then don't come."

Numair hesitated, and Daine felt a touch of guilt at her abruptness.

"I'm just not sure I'm ready to ride in the wilderness," Numair said, waving his hand to signal the surrounding hills and forests and mountains.

"It's hardly the wilderness, Numair," Daine said calmly, tying a saddlebag onto Cloud's saddle. "It's a four hour ride to a campsite which is closer to civilisation than we are at the house where you've been riding for the last three weeks."

"Yes," Numair agreed, absently tightening the girth around Spots, "but I've been riding with a nice sturdy fence around me. What happens if something goes wrong?"

Daine rolled her eyes. "Numair, Spots is as likely to bolt as you are to stop complaining. Now make up your mind; I wouldn't say you could do it if I didn't think you could."

Still looking uncertain, Numair finished fastening the girth and turned to the saddle bags hung over the fence. Daine was relieved to see the stubborn determination settle on his face; he'd ride with them, doubtlessly complaining the entire way there and the entire way back. She wasn't sure why she was so happy he was going with them, or why he came if he was determined to complain, but she wasn't willing to analyse the conflicting thoughts any closer than simply acknowledging they existed (which, she thought, was giving them too much consideration anyway).

"How are you going?" Onua asked from the fence.

"I've got Cloud ready," Daine said. "I'm about to get Trickster ready, and then we're good to go."

"Good," Onua said happily. "Numair, when you've finished with Spots I need you to carry the packs down from the house.

Numair opened his mouth to complain, but Cloud took the opportunity to nip at his elbow, eliciting a yelp of indignition from the man.

"Your pony is too clever for her own good, Daine, and much too unruly."

Daine patted Cloud's neck as Onua disappeared up the path chuckling. "No, Numair, I think she did just fine."

---

The weather was everything they could have asked for and more for a trek down to the campsite. Overhead the sun shone brightly, warming up the world.

"We should make it there before eleven," Onua said from the front of their small procession. "Hopefully we'll beat Sarge and Stefan there."

Daine had been working for Onua for just over three weeks now, and she still hadn't met the two men whom Onua spoke of frequently and fondly. They were busy this time of year, Onua explained when Daine asked one night why they hadn't been to visit, but when the camps started they were frequent visitors to Onua's home. Daine had nodded and said nothing more, wondering if there was perhaps any romantic interest between Onua and either of the two men. Of course, Daine was self-preservant enough not to raise the subject, though she had shared a conspiring glance with Numair.

Numair. She looked at him now, still horribly awkward in the saddle with his limbs as stiff as the trunks on a tree. Poor Spots looked as long-suffering as ever when Numair was on his back, but the gelding didn't complain or fidget the way a less well behaved horse would have.

She was proud of Numair, Daine thought to herself. For the last three weeks he had been making an immense effort to assist Onua and not make a nuisance of himself. His cooking had improved very little since his first attempt, but Daine had been pleased to note a small gleam of affection and apprectiation for his efforts, even if the women never said anything to acknowledge them. Not to mention the effort he put into his riding skills.

Numair had also, much to Daine's amusement, convinced Onua to invest in two peacocks. He'd been absolutely thrilled by their fanciful feathers and colourful displays, until one of them took an intense disliking to one of his fingers. Onua had tried to warn Numair that peacocks were proud and arrogant, and while Numair's affection for the birds had definitely cooled, he refused to admit that Onua was right.

Daine smiled as they rode toward the campsite, feeling as free as a bird. Life was good, she thought, studying her companions. In their own way, both of them were as dear to her as Cloud and her family had been. Daine didn't dwell on the fact or want to consider that Numair wasn't going to be around for much longer.

Two months, Onua had said he was staying for. Two months. And one of them was almost over already.

Daine didn't like the small stab of _something_ that hurt when she thought about him leaving, so she decided it was better not to think about that at all.

---

The campsite was more overgrown than Daine remembered it, but she supposed a good spring would do that to a perfect valley. They unsaddled the horses and picketed them in a flat clearing with thick grass next to the stream.

"We need to fix the corral first," Onua had said, pointing at the still broken fence when Numair questioned why they were 'tying the horses up'.

Onua showed both Numair and Daine how to set up the tents – Daine had never been camping before, and when Onua mentioned the word 'tents' in line with 'camping' Numair had looked like he might pass out with horror. They had lit a campfire and Onua was showing Daine how to build a small table out of wooden poles when two riders appeared from the south.

"Sarge and Stefan," Onua said with satisfaction as a piercing whistle shattered the stillness in the air. Onua's mare pricked her ears forward at the whistle and neighed loudly, obviously recognising the approaching horses as friends.

Daine watched them curiously as they approached; a large black man on an equally dark and large horse, accompanied by an older, weathered man on a light brown mount.

"Well now," boomed the dark man as he drew his horse – a gelding, Daine saw, so dark it was almost black - to a halt, "just in time for a hot drink, I see!"

"You haven't even done anything to earn your coffee yet, Sarge," Onua said dryly.

"Sarge skipped his morning brew," the older man said – Daine guessed he was Stefan. "Was so excited about your coffee, Onua, he told me we didn't need to make any."

"He's lying," Sarge said cheerily, dismounting. "What happened to the corral, Onua?"

"That mare I was telling you about, the one Jonathan's daughter might like, she happened."

Sarge grinned. "The lively one?"

"The lively one," Onua confirmed blandly. "Come on, let's get you men your coffee so you can start the work."

---

Sarge was a large man, bigger even than Numair. Daine decided that he had a temperment of steel, but it was offset nicely by a good sense of humour and a cheery glint in his eye. She thought she wouldn't like to get on his bad side. Ever.

Stefan, on the other hand, was quiet. The horses and ponies, even Cloud, nuzzled him affectionately and sought treats in his pockets. Daine liked the look of his winkled face and the calmness in his eyes. He made her think of an old English Clydesdale, steady as a rock and gentle as a lamb.

Both men were initially suspicious of Numair, and Daine couldn't help but think it was somehow related to Onua's apparent distrust of him. Why Onua still failed to accept Numair as a good person continued to baffle Daine, but she imagined it might have something to do with a marriage Onua refused to talk about. It was possible, Daine mused as she worked alongside Stefan repairing the corral, that the two men knew what had hurt Onua in the past, and were more wary for her sake than any real distrust of Numair.

Daine made the mistake of looking over at Numair, and to her horror she felt a blush staining her cheeks. She looked away quickly, focusing her attention back on the wood she was supposed to be holding steady. Sometime during the course of their morning's labour, Numair had decided to follow Sarge's lead and take off his shirt.

For some reason, Daine could look at Sarge without his shirt on and not react in anyway at all. His torso was well muscled, but Daine had seen well muscled male torso's before, and didn't find it at all uncomfortable or difficult to deal with.

Numair's body, on the other hand, was causing her a great deal of problems. It was tanned a light golden brown, or maybe it was just the natural dark colouring of his skin that made it looked so sunkissed. The muscles she had before written off as being from regular gym workouts had somehow, in the course of three weeks helping Onua carting and dragging and man-handling, turned into something more than just sculpture.

Daine snuck another look, noticing his skin was gleaming with sweat as he helped Sarge battle with an axe and a spade to try and dislodge a fallen tree. Her heart sped up unnaturally in her breast, and suddenly it felt difficult to breath.

"Steady," Stefan murmured, "I can't hit the nail if you keep moving the wood, Daine."

His face, when she looked away from Numair to apologise, was bland and unaccusing. Daine had the distinct and unsettling impression that he knew _exactly_ what sort of bad thoughts were running through her mind at the sight of Numair without a shirt on, and she didn't like it at all. She snuck another look at Numair, trying to convince herself she just wanted to see how he and Sarge were progressing with their work, rather than to stare at the way his muscles moved when he swung the axe. He had a really, really nice set of shoulders, Daine thought dreamily.

Numair was too old for her, Daine reminded herself sternly, forcing herself to concentrate on the wood in her hands. Much too old for her. And he was leaving. Anyway, it wasn't as though she _liked_ him like that. He was a friend. A really good friend that smelt really nice and looked even better. He was only a friend.

But she couldn't seem to stop herself from sneaking another look.

Just a friend. Right.

---

Late afternoon and Daine was exhausted. She didn't think she'd ever worked this hard in her life, and her protesting body definitely agreed with her. And it was hot. What had started off as a lovely late spring day with sunshine and a breeze had turned into a stinking hot day that really belonged somewhere in the middle of summer, not anywhere _near_ spring.

"We did a lot this morning," Onua said, stifling a yawn. "I think we can take the rest of the day off."

"Good," Daine heard Numair say. "I was going to take it off anyway, but it's nice to have permission."

Onua snorted in amusement, and Daine felt a smile twitch her lazy lips into a barely there smile. "You don't usually care about things like permission," she pointed out.

"I'm working on improving my character," Numair retorted lazily.

"I think I need to cool down," Sarge said before Daine could insert a smart comment. "It is too hot to even think about work. How about a swim?"

Daine, lying on her back in the grass, turned to look at the rest of the small group all lazing around the campsite in various positions of relaxation.

"I'm not," Onua said, yawning again. "I am going to take a nice, long nap. Wake me when dinner is ready," she added imperiuosly.

"We do all this work for her, and she can't even cook us dinner," Sarge said mournfully, dragging himself to his feet. "Daine? You look like you could do with a swim."

The stream, Daine had discovered earlier, fed into a large pool not too much further down the valley. Onua had admitted to helping nature a little with a touch creative landscaping, and the result was a natural swimming hole complete with the tiny trickle of a waterfall and large rocks which were perfect for sunbaking on. Paradise, Daine thought again as she pictured the area.

"Well?" Sarge said, prodding her with his foot.

"I don't want to move," Daine said lazily, pushing his foot away. "I'm tired and lazy and ready for a nap."

"Daine Sarrasri is going to have a nap?" Numair said disbelievingly.

"It's not like you'd go swimming in a slime-filled pond with frogs and fish," Daine retorted, glancing over at Numair. The damn man still hadn't put his shirt on, she thought with a mixture of pleasure at the sight and disgust at herself for enjoying the sight.

"I think a swim sounds good," Numair disagreed, climbing gracefully to his feet. He was graceful now, Daine thought absently, but doubtlessly when he was younger he was all arms and legs and clumsiness.

"You'd no more get in than drink out of the same mug twice without rinsing it," remarked Daine, closing her eyes.

"I think you need a swim," Numair said.

"No, I need a nap."

Sarge and Numair seemed to accept her decision, and Daine almost purred with satisfaction. The shade was lovely and the grass was unbelievably soft. The perfect spot for-

Daine squealed with shock as she ws suddenly wrenched from her comfortable position by two pairs of strong arms. "Put me down!" she demanded as Sarge helped Numair sling her over his shoulders. "Numair, no!"

The skin of his back was deliciously warm against her hands when she tried to push herself out of his hold, but his hands were securely wrapped around her waist. Really, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes there wasn't much she could do unless she really wanted to hurt with kicking. And as annoyed and irritated as she was, Daine didn't really want to hurt him.

"Put me down," she ordered again, trying not to notice the muscles of his back under her hands. "Numair!"

"Okay," he said agreeably.

Two seconds later Daine was spluttering in the icy cold water of the pool, trying to pull her hair out of her eyes. "I cannot believe you did that!" she gasped, struggling to her feet in the shallows.

"You need a swim," Sarge said, grinning wickedly.

"My clothes didn't," she pointed out grumpily. She had to admit though, the water was lovely and cool against the heat of the day. "And I don't see you dumping Onua either."

"Onua would kick my ass," Sarge said simply, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his jeans to reveal a set of swimmers. "Besides, I always swim here."

Numair wasn't as well prepared as Sarge, but he was game. Daine tried not to watch as he pulled off his jeans to reveal a pair of plain black boxers. Instead, she contemplated her own clothing.

She decided that if it was okay for the men to strip, it was okay for her. She struggled with her wet boots and socks, and then fought with the denim of her jeans. T shirt, bra and panties were fine, she thought, lobbing her jeans onto a rock where she hoped they'd dry a little, but she wasn't quite game enough to go in any less.

"You see?" Sarge asked, self satisfied. "You did need a swim."

Daine splashed him, and ducked under the water swimming away from him. He retaliated, swimming after her and splashing her as she surfaced. Daine squealed and attacked again, laughing as the water flew through the air and birds in the surrounding trees scolded them loudly.

"Come on, Numair!" Sarge yelled, "I need back up!"

Daine turned to look at Numair who was still standing on shore, suddenly looking doubtful. "Are you sure it's safe?" he asked warily.

"Odds bobs, Numair!" Daine yelled. "You better damn get in so I can splash you for dunking me, or you won't live to regret another day!"

"I can always help you in, Numair," Sarge added wickedly, winking at Daine.

"I'm in, I'm in!" Numair yelled back. His face screwed up with disgust as he stepped into the pool. The water, only up to his ankles, was icy cold and he winced theatrically. "Urgh!"

"Come on in, Numair," Daine called him, "before we help you in!"

Sarge was tired of waiting, apparently, and sent a large splash of water straight at Numair, soaking him.

For a second, Daine thought Numair was upset, but in a flash the look turned to a grin and he literally dove forward to try and dunk Sarge beneath the cold water.

They splashed around happily for a while, laughing and dunking each other. Daine tired of it soon though, and decided she'd rather float on her back and stare at the clouds through the leafy canopy of the overhead trees. The water was silky where it touched her skin, and cool. It contrasted starkly against the roughness of her wet T shirt as it tangled around her, following gentle eddies and currents in the water.

"I've had enough," Sarge said at last.

"Old man," Daine accused him lazily, thinking she could possibly fall asleep floating in the water like this.

"Sane man," Sarge disagreed. "I need my coffee and then I'm going to have a nap too."

Daine stared up at the sky, wondering at the silence and whether Numair was still in the pond.

"You think he likes her?" Numair asked suddenly, answering her unspoken question. She was surprised to see him floating nearby, also staring up at the sky.

"I think so," Daine said, thinking of Onua and the smile on her face when she looked at Sarge. "I don't think they realise it yet."

"I think they do," Numair disagreed. "I think they don't want to acknowledge it."

"Why wouldn't they?" Daine asked bluntly. "Being in love isn't a bad thing, Numair."

"They've got a good friendship," Numair countered. "Maybe they don't want to risk that."

Daine was silent, considering his words. "What would you do?" she asked.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," she said, smiling. "If you loved someone you were friends with, but didn't want to risk the friendship. What would you do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't think I believe in love."

"You don't believe in love?" she asked doubtfully. "Everyone believes in love, Numair."

He sighed. "I don't. Not for me, anyway."

She wasn't sure she believe him, but she let it go. She knew Numair well enough by now to know when to argue and when to relent.

"What about you?" he asked.

If she loved Numair, she thought idly, she'd be scared to tell him. He was older than her, and from a different life. He was rich, with parties and sophisticated women and education. She was just a girl who liked horses. "Maybe you're right," she said. "Maybe some things are better kept secret."

There was no answer, and Daine looked around again to see where Numair had gone. There was no sign of him, but a second later a hand fastened around her ankle and pulled her under.

She came up spluttering, glaring when she caught sight of him laughing as he backpedalled toward the shore. "Got you!" he crowed happily.

She set off after him, happy to ignore the sudden turn her thoughts had taken, splashing and shrieking loudly as she gave chase. He was almost out of the water by the time she caught up, and she raced after him, determined to dunk him.

Daine didn't plan on his foot slipping as he raced out of the pool. She lunged forward, half thinking she could stop him falling, but momentum was against them and they thudded to the muddy bank together, grunting as they struck the ground.

"Oh, God," Numair groaned, "that hurt."

"Sorry," she gasped, trying to push herself upright.

Somehow, in their tangling of limbs during the fall, she'd ended up on top of him. Her face was breathlessly close to his; his body warm and wet beneath hers. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she gazed into his eyes.

"Daine," he whispered, and she felt his breath on her lips as his fingers curled in the hair at the nape of her neck. Close, she thought, he was so close to her she could feel the thundering of his heart against her breast and see the golden flecks in his eyes as he moved closer and closer-

"Daine! Numair! Coffee's ready!"

She jerked away from him and clambered off of him as though he burnt her.

"Coming," she yelled back.

She avoided his gaze as she gathered her wet jeans and struggled into them. Neither of them spoke or looked at the other as they made their way back to the campsite where Sarge was waiting with coffee and the horses were grazing.

---

_Nice long chapter because I haven't updated for a while ;) I'm having a hard time with exams at the moment though, so I apologize for updating infrequently. Please review, because your comments cheer me up and I need something good to make the exams a little more bearable!_

_So please, review? Just for me!_


	13. Chapter 13

**thirteen**

From some vague recollections of his very early childhood, Numair recognised the smell of woodsmoke as it wafted lazily between the trees and mingled with the last fleeting touches of burnt sugary marshmallows that they'd eaten not long before. He might even have eaten the marshmallow's straight off the stick in those early years, much like he'd been shown half an hour before by Onua and Sarge. The sticky sweetness lingered in his mouth, and if Numair ignored the fact that he'd eaten off a stick slugs had probably crawled over at some point in time, the marshmallow's had tasted pretty good.

Now he was full and lazy and tired. He sighed, flopping onto his back and staring up at the sky. The stars were hidden behind the leavy canopy and dulled by the glow of the fire nearby.

"That sounded quite thoughtful," Sarge commented languidly.

"It wasn't," Numair said.

"You weren't thinking about something?" Daine asked doubtfully from across the fire.

Numair rolled onto his side and surveyed her through the orange flames; her hair gained an amber shine in the firelight, and he thought it made her eyes look wild. If he hadn't been in company, Numair would have snorted at his fanciful musings.

She was a child, he reminded himself as he flopped back down again and stared up at the sky. A beautiful child, almost a young woman actually, who'd felt deliciously warm and soft against him this afternoon. He wondered what her lips tasted like.

Numair closed his eyes and groaned, pushing himself upright. He had to leave now, before he did or said something stupid.

"Where are you going?" Onua asked.

"Stars," Numair lied. "Going to look at the stars."

"You can see the stars just fine from here," Stefan pointed out reasonably.

"No, you can't," Daine inserted. "Not as bright as you can from the hill up at the house."

"That's because the fire's here," Onua said. "If you want to see them clearly you need to go where it's dark, and there aren't any trees in the way either."

"That's why I'm going," Numair said, happy Onua, of all people, had cemented his excuse for him. "You coming, Daine?" he asked. It wouldn't have looked right, he told himself, if he didn't ask her to come. They _always_ watched the stars together. For him to not invite her would tell both her and Onua very clearly that something _was_ wrong.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm cold and tired. You go watch, I'm going to bed."

"If I had to sit in the saddle for four hours today riding, you can stare at the stars for a few minutes," Numair said smartly.

No! he remembered belatedly, No! He wasn't supposed to convince her to come along. The idea was to _leave_ so he wouldn't do anything stupid!

"I'm tired, Numair, and cold," Daine said petulantly. "Can't I just skip it one night?"

"Are you telling me that I'm holding up better than you are, today?" Numair teased.

Daine scowled. "Ten minutes," she said, climbing to her feet.

Crap, Numair thought. Now what did he go and do that for?

---

There were large clearings close to their tents which were used by Onua during the summer season as impromptu arenas and gathering points for sports during the camps. They chose one such clearing well out of sight of the campfire, a slight rise that crested on a small hill overlooking the rolling lands before them. No moon graced the sky, but the stars were bright enough to reflect off the landscape and turn it almost silver.

"It's beautiful," Daine whispered, her voice breaking the silence between them.

Wrapped in a blanket she'd refused to leave at camp, she dropped gracefully to the ground and curled her knees up under her chin.

"You really that cold?" Numair asked apologetically. It was cool in the night air without cloud cover, but dressed in his dirty jeans and a flannel shirt, he didn't think it was quite cold enough to complain – and he himself complained bitterly about the cold on most occasions.

"Not anymore," she admitted. "The dry clothes helped. Thanks for that, by the way."

"It's okay," he said, shrugging. "I shouldn't have dropped you in the water with your clothes on."

"Are you saying you should have taken them off first?" Daine asked dryly.

Numair felt his cheeks burn with a blush that had nothing to do with residual warmth from the fire. "So you're not really that cold then?" he changed the subject. "Because if you are, I don't mind not doing this tonight."

"I'm fine," she said. "The sweater is warm, and the blanket keeps my legs warm."

Numair had been the only person to bring a 'spare set of clothes' – Sarge and Stefan had both laughed long and loud when they realized that he'd carted extra clothe to the camp for 'just in case'. It was, they told him bluntly, only a one night affair and most people didn't even bother to bring underwear, let alone underwear, spare sweater and shirt.

Despite the teasing, Numair was happy he'd brought the clothing. He'd given the spare sweater to Daine, seeing that her clothes were still wet from her impromptu swim, and he'd offered the spare set of boxers too. She'd accepted with a smile of thanks, to his surprise, and had disappeared into a tent to change, only to emerge a few moments later wrapped in the blanket to keep her legs warm.

"So what's my lesson tonight?" she asked when he sat down beside her.

"No lesson tonight," he decided. "I'm too tired to talk. I just want to look."

"It's beautiful," she agreed, repeating her earlier observation. She shivered as the cool breeze played around them.

"You are cold!" he realized.

"Only a little."

"Come here."

"What are you doing, Numair?" she asked when he tried to tug her into place.

"Sit between my legs," he instructed, "and give me the blanket."

She obeyed, and Numair pulled her tight against him, wrapping the blanket around them both. He pulled his knees up, and she wrapped her arms around his legs, pulling her own knees up to mimic his position.

"Comfortable?" he asked her, trying not to sound too breathless. Her hair, he realized, smelt really really good. Really good.

"Yeah," she said, leaning against him.

They were silent for a long time, simply gazing at the view and taking in the stars. Numair couldn't concentrate on the stars though; her body was warm and soft in his arms and he found himself wanting to bury his nose in her hair to inhale the scent of her.

"Can I ask you something?" she murmured, snuggling back against him a little further.

"Of course."

"Are you hiding from something?"

A cold stab of reality struck in his gut, and he swallowed roughly, convulsively tightening his hands around her waist.

"Daine," he started to say.

"I'm not stupid, Numair," she said, not moving. "George said he was involved with undercover work, and that Alanna was a detective. Onua didn't want you here, but she let you stay. You were worried about people following George when he brought you your things."

He knew she wasn't stupid, and it was rather obvious that he _was_ hiding.

"I saw something," he said finally. "There's a large crime organization, it's been around for a long, long time. I managed to get involved with them when I was younger," he admitted reluctantly. "To be fair, I didn't know what they were. I thought it was just a business company; research, you know? The thrill of working with people who were involved in very secret doings was a big catch for me."

"It was a challenge," Daine said insightfully.

"Yes," he agreed, squeezing her again. "Of course, Ozorne recruited me right after I ran away from home. I'd at least been clever enough to change my name to something innocuous so my family couldn't find me. I didn't realize hiding my past from Ozorne would be a blessing in disguise," Numair said wryly. "I didn't like the lifestyle for long though; nothing keeps me interested that long. So I got out."

"And now?" Daine asked.

"I came to my senses and admitted to my family I was an idiot. After that, I spent a lot of time traveling. And then, out of the blue one day, I saw Ozorne. I almost called out to him, the idiot that I was, only before I could say anything, he executed a man in front me."

"Oh," Daine whispered.

"Yes," Numair smiled. "Of course, I was stupid enough to give myself away. Thankfully luck was on my side. I'd been friendly with a man by the name of Jonathan. He's up nice and high in the justice department, right near the top, and he had introduced me to George and Alanna about six months before all this happened. So the first thing I did was run straight to George and Alanna and collapse into a pathetic bundle of fear."

"Now that," Daine said, "is truly hard to believe."

He squeezed her again, teasingly bumping her head with his own. Only, pressing his face against her hair he could smell the woodsmoke clinging to her skin, and the faint traces of water and grass from her day's activities. He kept his face against her, nuzzling in her hair. She didn't move, except to tilt her head sideways so he had better access to the soft skin of her neck.

"Anyway, I told them all I'd seen. Imagine their surprise when they realized that Numair Salmalín had once gone by the name of Arram Draper, and not only did he see a murder as Numair, but he'd been intimately involved with the ongoings of Ozorne's organization for a very long time. I'm a very incriminating piece of evidence," he whispered against the smoothness of her skin.

"What does that mean?" she whispered, her voice sounding strangled as his lips brushed against her pulse.

"It means I'm in trouble," Numair said, kissing the smooth skin. "I'm in hiding, until the trial. They tried to kill me, and Alanna thought that was a bad thing. Wouldn't do to have the prime evidence removed, were her exact words, I think."

"Oh," Daine whispered again. Her eyes were closed, he saw, and her lips slightly parted as she dropped her head back against his shoulder.

This was wrong, he thought again as he nuzzled his face against her temple, running his lips along the line of her eyebrows.

"Tell me a story," she whispered, not opening her eyes.

"What sort of story?" he murmured, kissing her eyelids.

"Something with magic and starlight and things that shouldn't be."

Her words wrenched at his soul; that story was theirs, he thought. "Starlight is magic, Daine," he told her, kissing her nose and her cheek. "It's when the fairies come out to play."

"I used to want to be a fairy," Daine admitted, turning her face toward his. Her eyes were open now, large and shining with starlight.

"You're not a fairy," he told her, smiling, "you're too big."

"I could be magic," she countered.

"A magelet," he murmured, covering her lips with his own. She tasted sweet like marshmallows and fresh like spring water, as though he was kissing the breeze that made the pine trees whisper. His heart thundered in his chest as he kissed her, running his fingers along the smooth line of her jaw to tangle in the thick tresses of her hair. She sighed against his lips when they parted, opening her eyes again.

"Something with magic and starlight and things that shouldn't be," Numair whispered crookedly.

She licked her lips and tried to smile. "It was a beautiful story," she said.

They looked up at the stars for a long, long time, and Numair thought he would always remember of the feel of silk magic under his fingers when he touched starlight with his soul.

---

_Okay, I admit it. This fic is a completely shameless ruse to get reviews. Other than the upcoming action with Numair and Ozorne, this fic really has no plot. It's written purely for entertainment value and romance and sap because I think Numair is oh-so-hot. Really. _

_So go on, pander to my whims and give me reviews! It means I write more fic sooner ;)_

_Please?_


	14. Chapter 14

**fourteen**

It was still dark when Daine woke up, and she lay still for a moment, disorientated by her surroundings. Next to her, she could hear steady breathing – Onua, she remembered – and a heavy, warm body lay on her feet. Tahoi, she thought with a smile, snuggling deeper into her nest of sleeping bag and old blankets.

Outside, she heard the sound of wind howling, and a pattering against the canvas of the tent informed her it was raining too. She sighed and considered the miserable day outside. It wasn't going to be fun working or riding in the rain and mud.

Daine closed her eyes again, determined to enjoy lying in the warmth for a while longer before Onua woke and the day started again. A familiar smell tickled her nose, and she frowned. Spice and smoke and an indefinable smell that reminded her of the feel of Numair's lips on her own.

Numair. Unbidden her fingers crept toward her lips, resting lightly on the dry skin.

Numair had kissed her last night, and she'd kissed him back. Daine swallowed roughly, her heart thudding in her chest at the memory. She'd kissed people before, she thought hazily, and had enjoyed the exercise, but last night… last night was different. It had felt more real and fleeting than any other time. Lying in her sleeping bag, Daine wrapped tangled her hands in Numair's sweater and pushed it's softness against her cheek, drawing in his smell.

She had it bad, she thought dimly, remembering his warmth at her back.

They'd sat for a long time after the kiss, staring up at the sky in silence. At some point she'd fallen asleep in his arms; not really unusual during their stargazing, but it was different this time. She'd woken up when he'd climbed to his feet still holding her in his arms. When she'd moved to get down, he'd tightened his arms around and held her closer against him, resting his cheek against her own. Daine had remained silent and let him carry her back to the tent, listening to the sound of his heart beating next to her ear. He'd put her down in front of the tent, she remembered, touched her cheek with a hand that was starting to develop calluses, and disappeared into the shadows of the trees around the camp.

She hadn't asked him where he was going.

"You awake, Daine?" Onua whispered now, her sleeping back rustling in the dimness of the tent.

"Mmm," Daine murmured. Against her leg, Tahoi's tail started thumping gently, happy to see his people awake.

"You were gone a long time last night," Onua said quietly.

"I fell asleep," Daine admitted, glad her face was buried in the blankets so Onua couldn't see her. "I think Numair might have too."

Onua was quiet, and Daine hoped she wasn't going to ask anymore questions. The gods weren't smiling down at Daine, this morning.

"I don't want to see you get hurt, Daine," Onua said quietly. "Numair seems like a nice person now, Daine, but he's a lot older than you."

"Almost fourteen years," Daine said, and then cursed herself. Only an idiot with a crush on someone worked out the exact difference in their ages.

"And he's not going to be here forever."

"I know," Daine sighed. "He told me."

"He did?"

"Last night. We talked. I know you're worried, Onua, but I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not," Onua said gravely. "But sometimes when we think we're in love we can do stupid things."

"I don't think I'm in love," Daine said with certainty. People didn't fall in love in a month, she thought. She'd know if she was in love.

"I just don't want to see you making a mistake."

It was quiet and dim in the tent, with only the wind and the rain outside making any noise. "What happened, Onua?" Daine asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You were married," Daine said carefully.

Onua was quiet for a long time. Daine was worried she'd pried or asked a question she shouldn't have, and was about to apologise when Onua spoke. "I made a mistake, Daine. I married a man who I thought was amazing. But he wasn't."

"Are you divorced?" Daine asked quietly.

"Yes."

The single word was curt and abrupt; no more questions, Daine realised.

Onua surprised her though. "He beat me."

Daine almost choked on her own spit with surprise. "What!" How could someone as self sufficient and strong as Onua, be beaten by a man?

"I was young. I didn't want to leave him. I wasn't going to."

"But you did," Daine said quietly.

"No, I didn't. Sarge and Stefan… they knew what was happening. Called in a friend of theirs, Alanna, because they thought I might listen to her."

"Did you?" Daine asked curiously.

Onua smiled. "God no. I was too stubborn and proud for my own good. They didn't give up on me though, and Alanna befriended me even though I wouldn't listen to her. One day I had to meet her for coffee, but things had gotten pretty bad the night before. Alanna found me, and put her foot down. It was too late anyway; the bastard had run off after leaving me for dead. A friend of Alanna – Jon – was a lawyer at the time. He helped me with the divorce. It's how I ended up getting the land and the ponies."

Daine swallowed roughly, understanding why Onua was so reluctant to trust Numair.

"Not everyone is like that, Onua," Daine said quietly, into the darkness of the tent.

"I know," Onua agreed. "But sometimes fear makes you do things or feel things you can't help. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Daine smiled. "Thank you, Onua."

"For what?" Onua asked, her voice its usual brusque tone.

"Trusting me," Daine said simply. "And looking out for me. It's nice to have someone who cares again."

"In that, I thank you too, Daine," Onua said quietly.

They lay in silence for a while longer, listening to the sound of the rain lashing against the tent, each lost in their own thoughts.

---

While the day before had been perfect – hot and sunny – the weather had taken a turn for the worse overnight. When Daine finally crawled out from the tent still dressed in Numair's sweater and boxers, a blanket wrapped around her for warmth, the morning revealed itself as cold, grey and very, very wet.

"Run to the shed," Onua ordered behing her, poking Daine in the back.

Daine complied, wet grass and damp grass squashing between her toes as she sprinted toward the large shed set to the side of the clearing near the corral. Inside, the concrete floor was dusty, but Sarge and Stefan had cleared up one of the tables and had already fired up an old barbecue near the door.

"Morning," Sarge said cheerfully, cracking open eggs onto the grill. "Nothing like a hot breakfast for a cold day."

Daine felt her stomach growl, and grinned in response.

"Your jeans are still wet, Daine," Onua said. "And your boots."

"It's okay," Daine said. "I'll only get wet outside anyway. I'll just put them on once I've had breakfast."

"Keep that sweater on," Onua advised, "I don't want you getting sick."

Daine rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"Do I smell breakfast?" Numair appeared in the shed, looking dishevelled and very unlike his normal neat self. There were dirt smudges on his cheeks, his hair was tangled and his clothes sleep rumpled.

"Almost ready," Sarge informd them. "There's some plates and stuff in that cupbard," he added, pointing to a small cupboard hidden at the back of the shed.

"I didn't expect it to be so big in here," Daine commented once they were all settled at a wooden table, hungrily eating their eggs and bacon. "I thought when you camped, you camped."

Onua grinned. "When it rains, people don't like camping. This is our 'rainy day backup'," she explained. "When it rains, we cook food in here and the campers can stay inside and play board games or cards. It's also useful for storing tools and stuff we don't want to cart back and forth between each camp."

It made sense, Daine thought, and turned back to her breakfast. Outside, the unmistakable sound of thunder rumbled through the air, causing a funny feeling in Danie's stomach.

"Storm's close," Stefan commented, as everyone turned to look at the door.

The rain was falling again, in thick sheets that obscured their view several feet beyond the door. "What do you think, Sarge?" Onua asked.

"I think we should pack up and head back to my house," Sarge said. "It's closer than yours, and this storm looks like it's settling in."

"It came out of nowhere!" Numair announced. "Didn't anyone check the weather before we left?"

Daine raised her eyebrows. "This is mountain country, Numair, the weather is unexpected. Storms come out of nowhere all the time."

"Oh," Numair said, blushing. Daine thought he looked cute when he blushed.

"You're right," Onua agreed. "We'll pack up, but Daine and I are going back to the house. I'm not happy leaving the animals out in this."

"Onua," Sarge protested. "It's a long ride; we're better off going to my house and taking the car up the mountain."

Onua shook her head. "No. The amount it's raining the river migh be too full to cross, even with your tank of a car, Sarge. Daine and I will be fine, there's no need to worry about anything."

"What about me?" Numair demanded.

Onua shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to ride all the way back, when Sarge's house is half the distance."

Numair stuck his chin out stubbornly. "My hair dryer is at your house," he pointed out.

Sarge and Stefan guffawed loudly, but Daine felt a smile of affection and approval tug at her lips. His wanting to go back to Onua's had nothing to do with his hair dryer, she knew, and everything to do with caring about them.

"Let's pack up," Onua said. "We'll drag the tents in here and leave them to dry. No point in loading Mangle up in this weather."

---

Wet horse, leather and the fresh scent of water on dirt. Daine was cold and wet on Cloud's saddle, her jeans cold and her hair matted to her face. It was slow going over the muddy track, and streams that had been mere trickles the day before were already flowing with a strength that indicated it had been raining steadily in the higher mountains.

"You okay?" Numair asked as they struck a wider part of the trail and he could bring Spots up along side her.

"Fine," she told him, offering him a smile. "Your riding's gotten a lot better."

He smiled back awkwardly, but he couldn't seem to look her in the eye. Daine felt colder on the inside, suddenly, than she'd been a few moments before.

Things that shouldn't be, she thought, and straightened her back. "I think we're about forty five minutes from home," she said.

"Closer," Onua disagreed. "The track's easier from here. Only two more streams to cross, and a small rocky patch between them."

Onua's mare snorted in agreement, shaking her head.

The rain still fell heavily, and Daine had given up trying to keep the water off her. It had seeped in through the sweater and stuck her eyelashes together. Even her boots were water logged and she felt distinct sloshing in her toes.

Miserable, Daine thought, watching Numair nudge Spots' ahead of her and Cloud as the trail started to narrow again. She was thoroughly miserable, and she wasn't certain it was all due to the rain and cold. Sighing, she tried to wipe some fo the excess water from her face, and licked her cold lips, tasting the freshness of the rain.

Despite herself, she wondered what the rain would taste like on Numair's lips.

---

They came to the first stream Onua had spoken of ten minutes later; what had been a languid trail of water the day before was now a babbling brook, eagerly racing around rocks and gurgling against muddy banks. The ponies and Numair's gelding picked their way across the water carefully; the churning water hid stones and holes that could easily trip an unwary mount.

"Almost there," Onua said encouragingly.

Cloud's hooves clipped against the rocky soil, and Daine silently promised her mare that when they got back to Onua's she'd be very well looked after for enduring this cold, wet ride with very little fuss.

The second stream was in sight, bigger and messier than the first, when something spooked Onua's mare. Daine didn't know if it was the lightening or the wind, or the crack of a branch falling in the distance, but one minute Onua's mare was picking a trail over the rocks, and the next the mare neighed loudly and gave an akward little buck.

Onua, alert and focused on the pony's progress over the rocky ground, stayed in the saddle easily and leant forward trying to calm the pony.

Daine and Numair had both stopped their mounts, watching the scene with horror.

Come on, Daine thought, as the pony skittered uneasily over the rocky terrain, struggling for her footing and balance, calm down!

Onua had almost succeeded; the mare still danced anxiously on her feet, but was keeping in the same place and responding to Onua's instructions. Then a second rent of lightening tore through the air, a clap of thundering shattering the silence almost at the same time. The pony, its nerves already shot, screamed it's fear and lurched up onto its back legs, trying to dislodge Onua who was clinging like a burr to the pony's neck.

The pony staggered on the rocks, struggling not to tip backward or lose its balance on the uneven ground. Daine's mouth was dry with horror as she watched; time seemed to stretch and stretch and stretch until suddenly it snapped when the pony dropped back onto its front legs, bucked, and started galloping madly toward the stream.

"ONUA!" Daine screamed, unconsciously pushing Cloud toward the bolting pony.

Several feet before the stream, another lightening bolt split the sky, and thunder cracked. The pony screamed in fear again, shied, and tried to jump over the swollen banks of the stream. Onua, not expecting the mare to shy, was thrown from the saddle before the mare attempted to jump over the stream.

She landed with a thud and a crack, and lay on the ground, unmoving.

"ONUA!" Daine screamed again, flinging herself off Cloud and running toward the fallen woman.

Onua didn't move. One leg lay at a strange angle – Daine was certain it was broken – and there was a dark stain of blood washing away from Onua's head. With a trembling hand, Daine reached out to check Onua's pulse, her cold fingers sliding over the woman's wet skin, searching desperately.

There was nothing.

---

_Talk about a cliff hanger! Seriously – thanks for all the reviews, everyone. I'm totally adoring watching the numbers tick up and up and up. It's completely addictive. So please, keep reviewing and feed my addiction. And, you know, comments about the story itself are kinda nice too!_

_  
Ps – all the questions that have been asked, will be answered in the fic. I'm not going to give anything away, because that would be telling!_


	15. Chapter 15

**note: **Apologies for the delay in updating. I was away for the weekend, and my internet connection at home died when I got back. Thankfully, the problems are all sorted now!

**fifteen**

It was, if possible, raining harder than ever. Numair did a funny cross between a fall and a lunge out of Spots' saddle, and staggered across the stony ground to where Onua lay unmoving.

"I can't find her pulse!" Daine was screaming over the sound of lightening and thunder. Her pale fingers were scrabbling hopelessly across Onua's arm; Numair grabbed her hands and stilled them.

"You won't find anything with blocks of ice!" Numair yelled, curling his fingers around hers quickly and then letting go.

Onua's skin was slick and, and even though Numair was hopelessly incompetent in a lot of areas, one thing he was good at was First Aid. Ignoring Onua's wrist which Daine had been fumbling with, he reached toward her neck instead. A steady flutter beneath his fingers warmed him with a flame of reassurance. "She's got a heartbeat!" he yelled to Daine, holding his fingers against Onua's neck for a few seconds longer just to be sure.

From the looks of things, her leg was badly broken and the wound on the side of her temple was leaking blood fairly steadily.

"We need to splint her leg, Daine, and get some pressure on the head wound! Find us some sticks we can use as a splint!"

Daine nodded dumbly, and staggered to her feet to gather the requested items. Numair made his way back to Spots who was still standing patiently in the rain.

"Good boy," Numair murmured, patting the gelding's neck encouragingly before rummaging around in his oversized pack. He'd endured his fair share of teasing for the amount of baggage he'd carted with him on the camp, but Numair was nothing if not prepared. A small emergency kit was stashed somewhere in the bottom of his pack – he had to empty almost all of his belongings into the rain before he laid his fingers on it.

By the time he returned to Onua, Dain had found sticks for splints and was ready to help. They worked quickly, despite the rain, and Numair found himself greatful for that fact that Onua was unconscious – his tugging and jerking on her leg while he fumbled with a splint would not have been easy to handle had she been aware of the pain he was causing her.

"We need to get her to a hospital!" Numair yelled, wishing the rain would stop.

There was no sign of Onua's pony, not that Numair would have been comfortable putting the woman on that pony again anyway.

"Put her on Cloud," Daine ordered. "I'll unload Mangle and ride him bareback."

Numair didn't much care for that idea either, but there wasn't really much he could do. Nodding his acceptance, Numair helped get Onua onto the pony's back, and winced when Daine started tying her to the saddle.

"Let's go," Daine yelled a few minutes later, Mangle bare aside from bridle. She hopped on easily – Numair was envious of her riding ability – and grabbed the leadrope now tied to Cloud's collar. "Will a trot over the ground ahead damage her worse?"

Numair shook his head. "She's already hurt bad. I think speed over comfort is more important now."

"Be gentle," Daine yelled to Cloud.

They forded the stream carefully, and once they were past the rocky land they kicked their mounts into a trot.

Numair, bouncing along in the saddle and trying desperately not to fall, found himself wondering how on earth he'd gotten himself into this situation.

---

The waiting room of the hospital was eerily quiet after the continual drumming of thunder, rain and lightening. It was also cooler than Numair would have liked, especially when he caught sight of Daine shivering by herself on one of the plastic chairs.

"Come here," he said, holding his arms out to her.

She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty playing over her features.

"You're cold, Daine," Numair sighed. "I'll only hold you. I promise."

She smiled at him, a bitterly sad smile, and then stood up and walked into his arms. He held her close, nuzzling his nose in her hair and clutching at her wet clothes with his fingers. "You're going to get sick, Magelet," he whispered against the rainwater on her skin.

"You're wet too," she murmured, burrowing against him for warmth.

He realised, holding her so close, that she was shaking. "I panicked," she told him. "I forgot everything my Ma ever taught me about first aid and ran around like a chicken with no brain."

"You did fine," he soothed. "You knew how to splint her leg and helped get her on Cloud quickly. Onua'll be fine. She'll be fine. You'll see," he told her, stroking her hair and rocking her in place gently.

"It's stupid, Numair," she mumbled. "I've only known her a few weeks, but I can't lose her now."

"I understand," he said gently, closing his eyes. And he did understand how quickly you started worrying about people. Despite Onua's more than reluctant acceptance of him, she'd worked her prickly personality into his heart, and Numair knew that he would miss her terribly if something worse had happened.

"I always lose everyone," Daine continued, unaware of his internal musings.

"No you don't," he told her. But it was a lie, he realised; she'd lost her family, and she might lose Onua. "You won't lose me," he promised.

She pulled out of his arms and looked him. "Yes I will," she whispered, smiling though tears ran down her cheeks like salty rain drops. "I never had you in the first place."

Her hand cupped his cheek briefly, her thumb brushing over his lips, and then she let go and turned away from him.

"Daine," he called after her, but a hand caught his arm and he turned to see Sarge looking at him anxiously. "Onua should be fine," Numair said to the man, letting Daine go, "they're setting her leg now. It was a bad break, but the concussion is mild. They don't think she's sustained any brain damage, but it'll be a while before she goes home."

Sarge seemed to pale at the words, and his mouth moved silently in relief.

"I know," Numair said, guiding the man to a chair. "She's lucky."

Sarge nodded dumbly. "Thank you, Numair," he said hoarsely. "I don't know…"

"You're better off not thinking about it," Numair advised kindly. "I have to go find Daine."

"How is she?" Sarge asked.

"Shocked. I'll be back in a few minutes, Sarge."

"Excuse me, is one of you a Mr. Numair Salmalín?" a nurse enquired, appearing next to them.

"That would be me," Numair said.

"I have a phonecall for you, from an Inspector Alanna-"

"Oh shit," Numair hissed, biting his lips. "Oh… oh…"

"The phonecall? Sir? This way," the nurse said gently, steering him toward the nurses' station.

"Hello?" Numair said weakly.

"Numair, what the hell happened?" Alanna's voice demanded crossly.

"There was an accident and Onua got hurt," Numair explained. "She's in surgery at the moment, but the doctor's are saying she'll be fine."

"What about you?" Alanna asked. Numair had known Alanna long enough to know that when her voice was so soft and controlled was when she was about to lose her temper in a big, big way.

"I'm okay," Numair said warily. "A bit wet and muddy, and looking forward to a hot shower."

"Numair, are you _insane?"_ Alanna almost screamed down the phone. "I sent you into hiding for a reason, Numair! Did I not tell you Ozorne has fingers in each and every single goddamn pie in the entire area?"

"You might have mentioned that," Numair said, "but I'm hardly in a visible area, Alanna."

"You're not?" Alanna asked skeptically. "Numair, you are in a _public hospital!_ I want you to get out of there _now_ and go back to Onua's house before I get down there and shoot you myself!"

"Alanna, no one here knows who I am," Numair argued. "I can't just leave- Hold on a minute! Daine!" Numair yelled, pressing the receiver against his chest to muffle the sound. "Daine, I need to talk to you. Don't walk away from me, Daine!"

He watched Daine anxiously – she'd appeared around the corner, looking stunned to see him. Numair didn't have to know Daine well to know that she'd been crying; her eyes were red and there was a tremble to her bottom lip he'd never seen before. It scared him, to see her so upset.

"Please, Daine, five minutes," he begged quietly.

She nodded, and then moved warily toward him. When she was two steps away, he reached forward and grabbed her hand, curling his fingers around her cool skin and holding her tight.

"You still there, Alanna?" Numair asked, putting the receiver back to his ear.

"Numair, listen to me. Ozorne knows where you are."

"What?"

"He's had a tail and George and myself for weeks since you disappeared. George made that trip up to Onua's a few weeks ago, to take you your things. He lost the tail, and they didn't know for sure he went to see you, but they knew the general area he was in. They've been on the lookout for you, and one of them knows you're at the hospital."

"Who?" Numair hissed, clutching Daine's fingers tightly. "And how do you know that for sure?"

"Ozorne's not the only with double agents. You need to get out of there, Numair, and you can't go to Onua's. They'll know you were staying there and that's the first place they'll look. That and anyone associated with Onua will be searched by them. And Numair, you know what these men are capable of; they'll kill anyone who stands in their way."

"What's wrong?" Daine asked, trying to tug her fingers free from his crushing grip.

"Ozorne knows where I am," Numair told her.

"Who's that?" Alanna asked sharply.

"Daine."

"You told the girl!" Alanna almost shrieked.

"I trust her, Alanna, and Onua does too."

"What are you going to do?" Daine asked asking.

It was hard to split his attention between Daine and Alanna. "I don't know," he told Daine. "I need to leave."

"Where will you go, Numair?"

"I don't know," Numair muttered again. His head was starting to ache; a dull throb that was growing worse and worse and worse. How could this situation have gotten so bad so quickly? "I need to go somewhere Ozorne won't find me."

"I know where," Daine said quietly.

"Where?"

"There's a cabin in the mountains. Onua told me about it. No one goes there anymore; know one would think to look for you there."

Numair nodded. "That sounds good," he said. "Alanna, did you hear that?"

"I did. Numair, be careful. I've got people on the way already, but I'm not sure if they're to be trusted. Don't tell anyone where you're going – I'll ask Onua myself how to get to the cabin. Get supplies if you can; you might be in for an extended stay."

Numair nodded, even though Alanna couldn't see him. "Alanna?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just… Onua was hurt…"

"It's okay, Numair," Alanna said, surprisingly gentle. "Just get safe, okay? I'll come find you when it's safe to leave."

"Okay. Alanna, tell my mother I love her."

"You tell her that yourself," Alanna said gruffly. "Take care, Numair, and don't take any risks."

"You too, Alanna, you too," Numair whispered, but the woman had already hung up.

"Come on," Daine said, tugging on his hand.

"What do you mean come on?" Numair demanded. "You're better off staying away from me; Ozorne will kill you just as quickly as he'd kill me."

"Why?"

Numair smiled, but there was no humour in the expression. "Because that's the way Ozorne is."

"Well, you don't know how to get to the cabin, do you?" Daine demanded pertly, dragging him along the corridor. "Besides, if I'm with you at the cabin it's unlikely Ozorne will find me, seeing as he won't find you there."

Numair still wasn't convinced it was a good idea, but it wasn't exactly as if he had another option.

---


	16. Chapter 16

**sixteen**

On their way from Onua's house to the hospital, the small streams which Onua had been worried might flood had barely registered to Daine. Now, looking back at it, she remembered there had been a few tense moments when Onua's battered four wheel drive had forded the roaring streams, already turning into rivers, but she'd simply forgotten about them when they reached the hospital and Onua was hustled away by several harried looking nurses and orderlies.

Now, sitting in the front seat next to Numair battling with the steering wheel, Daine realised just how truly ridiculous this idea was.

"We'll never made it across!" Daine shouted across to Numair, fighting to be heard above the drumming on the roof.

"I told you to stay behind!" Numair snapped back, his fingers gripping the wheel.

"Are you kidding?" Daine yelled. "You're in more danger of killing yourself on horseback or with your cooking than you are of being found by Ozorne!"

"HA HA HA!" Numair yelled. "Hold on!"

Daine fell silent and gripped the dash tightly with one hand, bracing herself with her other hand on the handle above the door. Slowly the four wheel drive inched toward the swollen banks of what was now a small river rushing with dirty, brown water and carrying all sorts of debris down from the mountains.

The vehicle jerked and jolted as it moved into the water, icy water creeping in and lapping at Daine's feet. "The engine!" Daine screamed.

"Snorkel!" Numair yelled back, "it'll be fine!"

She was half curious about where his sudden technical knowledge came from, but realised it must have been one of those strange areas of interest he knew a lot about, that just happened to of use for a change. Rather than ask him about his interest in cars and engines, Daine decided he could do with the silence to concentrate on getting them safely across.

For a heart stopping moment, the four wheel drive stopped moving. The water now up to her upper calves, Daine's fingers clenched tightly against the dash and handle. The water was icy cold, and tugging angrily at the vehicle.

"Crap," Numair hissed, grunting.

The engine revved, the vehicle rocked back and forth and jerked side to side in the current, and suddenly they were moving forward again.

Daine's blood rain cold with relief.

She didn't realise her fingers were digging in Numair's thigh until he awkwardly patted her hand with his own after he released the gear shift. "It's okay, that's over now," he told her.

She released his thigh and stared out the window at the dark evening sky, hiding her blush from his view.

The second stream, higher up than the first, wasn't nearly as bad as the first, and they made it across with relatively little difficulty. There was one moment, as the truck bounced up the bank on the far end where the tires spun dangerously in the mud, but they lurched forward with a horrendous jerk and continued to Onua's house in the distance.

"Even if Ozorne is following us, he'll have even more trouble with those fords than we did," Numair said matter-of-factly several seconds later.

Daine hoped that if Ozorne was following he got washed away in the river and drowned.

---

Three hours later, the last vestiges of grey daylight had disappeared, and the downpour from the heavens showed no signs of abating.

"This is suicide," Daine said, just as Numair said, "This is ridiculous!"

If she wasn't so tired and cold and wet and hungry, Daine might have laughed at their uncanny timing. As it was, she merely pulled Cloud to a halt and slithered off the wet saddle, struggling for her footing in on the wet, uneven ground.

The country had become steadily more rocky for the last hour of their ride north, and Daine was fairly certain that the terrain was rocky enough to promise a cave or two they might use for shelter from the storm. The waterproof flashlights Onua had were useful; she fished one out from the pack on Mangle's back and handed Cloud's reins over to Numair.

"Watch him," she instructed the mare, doubtfully eyeing the tall man now swaying on his feet with exhaustion.

"I don't need watching," Numair told her loftily.

"Don't move," Daine said, ignoring him. "I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later she was leading Numair, Cloud and the two horses to a large cave she'd discovered not far from the rocky path.

Apparently Onua, or others, had used the cave as a shelter before. There was a small pile of wood tucked in the back, along with several very old and musty smelling blankets. Daine set Numair to light a fire, while she took care of the horses and Tahoi who had followed them the entire way from the farmhouse. By the time the animals were all fed and rubbed dry, Numair had a bright fire going and was digging through one of their hastily assembled packs to find some meat.

"You should get changed," he told her after casting a weary eye over her wet self. "It's cold up here, and you'll get sick."

"And you won't?" she retorted, studying his wet hair and jeans.

"Stop arguing with me, Daine, and just get yourself dry, please?"

She obeyed, changing out of her wet clothing in the very back of the cave out of the cold reach of the wind now howling through the tree tops. Several minutes later she took over the cooking of the meat, sending Numair to the back of the cave to change.

"We're actually lucky it's still raining," Numair said when he returned to the fireside, his hair still damp and touseled. Daine longed to run her fingers through the wet strands, and to feel the cool dampness of his stubbled cheeks against her palms.

She stared resolutely at the fire and stamped ruthlessly on her fanciful urgings. "Why?" she asked instead.

"It's washing away our trail. They won't know where we've gone."

"We should still leave at the first light of day," Daine said firmly. "This is too close to the farmhouse; it won't take them long to find the trail and follow it for a while for traces. The further we are from here, the less chance they find us."

"Agreed," Numair said easily. "Is that done yet? I'm so hungry I think my stomach is sticking to my spine."

"You're always hungry," Daine said promptly, but pulled the meat from the fire. "I think it's done."

"Excellent."

---

They used the old blankets Daine had found earlier as ground sheets to ward off the cold of stony floor, and spread their sleeping bags relatively close to the fire.

"It gets cold up here at night," Daine muttered, pulling on another sweater and burrowing into her sleeping bag. Even the thick lining of the sleeping bag failed to completely chase of the chill

"How high up do you think we are?"

Daine shrugged. "I don't know; it's hard to tell in the dark how far we got. Tomorrow we can have a look."

Other than the sound of animals fidgeting off to the side, and the lazy crackling of the fire, the cave was filled with silence. Daine listened to the wind as it raced and howled around the mountainside, and shivered inside her sleeping bag.

It was going to be a long, cold night.

---

The cave was dark when Daine opened her eyes, the glow of embers barely visible.

"Crap," she cursed, eyeing the dying fire with disgust. No wonder it was so cold in the cave suddenly. She shivered in her sleeping bag, trying to convince herself to get out and rekindle the fire.

Eventually, cold won over her reluctance to move and she climbed out of her nest stiffly, poking around irritabily in the fire with a stick. Small sparks flared and died down quickly, revealing the wood was all burnt out. Sighing, she threw another of the the dry logs onto the embers and tried to coax the fire back to life. It took a while, but eventually the flames started licking at the crumbling bark and bone dry wood.

She was placing another log on the fire, when she heard Numair stirring.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, watching her.

"The fire died, and I was cold," she explained, her teeth chattering.

"God, Magelet, you look blue, even in the firelight. Get back into your sleeping bag!"

She obeyed without arguing, trying to warm herself in the thick covers, but her skin was ice cold and she couldn't stop shivering.

"You okay?" Numair asked quietly, his voice unnaturally loud now that the rain outside had died down and the storm passed.

"Cold," she admitted, wriggling in her sleeping bag. "I can't get warm, Numair."

He paused, and then started climbing out of his sleeping bag.

"Unzip your bag," he told her, already unzipping his. "We'll zip the sleeping bags together and share warmth."

That, Daine thought fuzzily as she tried to unzip her sleeping bag and failed, was the smartest idea he'd ever had.

Numair's warm fingers brushed against her cold ones, taking over the unzipping of her sleeping bag. She was dimly aware of him forcing her back into the suddenly bigger sleeping bag, and hardly noticed him crawling in next to her, his body warm and solid against her back.

Drowsily she thought there was almost less room in the double bag with both her and Numair, than just her in the single bag. Smiling, she snuggled against him and dropped off to sleep.

---

_Reviews… pleeeaaasse…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: **I don't normally like making long, extensive notes regarding my choices in character and plot, but several people commented in reviews about Numair not having any healing power, and Daine having animal healing power so she should be better at First Aid. Yes, in the actual novels, I agree, but

Just because someone has First Aid training, doesn't always mean they'll react the right way when something goes wrong. You're more likely to freeze and panic, despite your training, if it's someone you cared about. I wrote it that way – Daine panicked and froze because she was scared for Onua.

Numair doesn't have healing power, I agree, but I'm fairly certain in the novels that Numair could do basic first aid care stuff, even thought that magical ability. Please remember, that in this fanfic, Numair _doesn't_ have magic, and neither does Daine. Maybe that's why Numair is so lost with his life – he's not sure what to do, because he doesn't have that all consuming drive to use magic. He still wants to know everything, and studies.

Heh. This has turned into a long note! Anyway, I really appreciate ALL the comments and reviews you've been giving me. I'm actually quite flattered – I've never had more than 10 reviews for anything I've written before, so the reviews have totally inspired me to actually keep writing and finish this fic.

I'd love to keep hearing from you all about the fic – I know its changed it's tone a little from the light-hearted beginning with chickens and ponies, but we're starting to reach the action now as I'm drawing closer to the end of this adventure.

Ps – some of you have drawn parrallels between the novels and this fic in the reviews, and I'm quite impressed at how you've picked up on all the bits I've stolen from the books and twisted around to make them fit! Kudos to those who picked up on them!

* * *

**seventeen**

She smelt like woodsmoke again, and a sliver of summer rain. Behind her ear he found she reminded him of wild daises and sun on the green clover. Her skin was satin soft and he kissed it reverently with his lips, his tongue darting out now and then to taste the peach sweetness.

"Daine," he murmured against her neck, breathing her in like perfume.

"Numair?" she asked, stretching against him like a cat.

Numair froze, his eyes blinking open with stunned surprise. Wrapped in a sleeping bag, they were tangled around each other and twisted together. In the dim light of the morning, she blinked up at him sleepily, her grey eyes misty with confusion.

"Morning," he said, swallowing roughly, trying to ignore the fact that bare minutes ago he'd been kissing and touching her thinking it a dream. But it wasn't a dream, it was reality.

"Already?" she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and wriggling against him in the sleeping bag. "It can't be."

"It is," he told her, tense as a bow ready to fire. She wriggled against him again, pressing herself closer. "Daine, we have to get up now!" he said somewhat desperately, trying to push her away discretely.

"It's too cold to get up," she mumbled against his chest, rubbing her nose against the sprinkling of hair peeking out at the v neck of his flannel shirt.

"Stop that!" he told her, trying to pull back. "It tickles," he lied when she looked at him with confusion and a little bit of hurt.

"We should get up," she said, even as he felt her hands tangling themselves in his shirt.

"Yes," he whispered, trying not to drown in her her eyes. "We really should get up."

Her lips were softer and fuller than he remembered, and as they kissed he rolled her onto her back, settling his weight over her. She gasped against him, her fingers pushing his shirt up and out of the way so she could run her fingers over his skin. He shivered at her touch, and tried to slow down, but she tasted like wine and rain and Daine and something he couldn't quite define.

His hands were gliding over her stomach and tangling in her hair and he was bruising her lips with his own when a crack shot through the air. It was only one of the horses clippingits hoof on a stone, but the damage was done. He froze, yanking his mouth from hers and staring at her in horror.

"What are we doing?" he demanded, jerkily struggling out of the sleeping bag.

"Numair!" she called.

"No, Daine, we can't do this. It's wrong."

When she crawled out of their sleeping bag and stood beside him while he tried to rekindle the dying fire, he didn't look at her and tried not to think about the fact that he could still taste her on his lips.

---

Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped and turned to snow.

"How can it snow?" Numair demanded, standing in the mouth of the cave while he stared out at the suddenly white landscape. "It's almost summer, for goodness sake!"

"It's the mountains," Daine said quietly, also surveying the landscape. "They often get late spring snows before summer really comes."

"Brilliant," Numair muttered darkly. "Now what do we do?"

"We could stay here; it's a good shelter and we've got access to fresh water and game. Or we could see how the trail looks, and try to head further up the mountain."

"What do you suggest, Daine?" he asked.

"I think it's going to snow for a while yet, those clouds still look heavy. We can have a look at the trail, and see what it's like, but I think we'd be stupid to leave this cave and head further up."

"Let's go take a look," Numair decided.

There were still lazy flakes drifting the ground, fluffy white pieces of ice that stuck to his skin and eyelashes. Numair had liked snow before, when he was warmly dressed and in the right frame of mine for it. He'd appreciated the views offered by ski resorts, and enjoyed some of the easier slopes. He'd never actually gone out of his way before to take a walk in the woods while it snowed, and he stared around him in wonder.

Yesterday, the world had been dark and wet and muddy. Today everything was quiet, muffled by the snow. The dawn light was grey and eerie, but everything was bright as the light reflected off the snow.

"Did you live high up in the mountains?" Numair asked, breaking the silence between them and the woods.

"Yes," Daine said shortly.

"Did it snow a lot."

"My village was called Snowsdale."

He snuck a glance at her, walking beside him. Her face was closed and her eyes were focused on her the ground before her. "Daine," he sighed, licking his lips and trying to explain _why_ it was such a bad idea, what had almost happened between them that morning.

"Don't, Numair," she said quietly. "Can we just not?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

"Here's the trail," she announced two seconds later.

"Where?"

"You're on it."

Numair looked at his feet, and tried to see where the trail ran. There was absolutely no way to discern where the trail was, let alone see where it wound through the trees. "I don't see it."

"Of course you don't," she sighed. "It's snowing more."

During his contemplations of Daine and what shouldn't be, Numair had failed to notice the fluffy flakes were falling faster and thicker. "Back to the cave?" he asked.

"Yes," Daine said. "This willprobably pick up. We should gather some more wood on our way back; that pile in the cave won't last forever and we have no idea how long this storm will last for."

Trusting Daine to lead them back to the cave, Numair followed in her wake, picking up small branches and pieces of wood that looked about right for their campfire.

He glanced up at Daine after a few moments of collecting, in time to see her drop unexpectedly from view with a tiny shriek as the ground beneath her gave way.

For several, interminable seconds after Daine disappeared from his view, Numair simply stood and stared at the empty spot of air she'd occupied moments before. Reality snapped back and jolted him out of his stupor when Tahoi raced past Numair and disappeared over the edge of the small rise Daine had been standing on.

"DAINE!" Numair yelled, dropping his collection of firewood and racing toward the last place he'd seen her. "DAINE!"

In hindsight, Numair realised it would have been wiser for him to approach the edge carefully, but he had been accused often throughout his life of being scattered and flaky, prone to ignoring obvious details when he was caught up in something he deemed more important at the time. He'd barely skidded to a stop on the snowy ground, when he felt it shift and crumble beneath his weight. His stomach lurched into his chest and he was falling for an endless second before he crashed into a steep slope and rolled and smacked along the snowy, rocky bottom.

Something solid - a tree, he guessed by the feel of its trunk digging into his spine – stopped his mad tumble, and he lay, stunned in the muddy snow. He should really hurt more than he did, Numair thought vaguely.

In the distance, somewhere, he could hear a dog barking, and it sounded like Tahoi. He wanted to call Tahoi, or Daine, but he couldn't convince his vocal cords to work. The world started to turn dark grey and black around the edges, and as the light flakes of snow started to fall faster, Numair slipped into unconsciousness.

---

_So you've read, how about a review!_


	18. Chapter 18

**eighteen**

She had wanted to get a look of their surroundings before they went back to the cave, so when Daine spied what looked like an opportune ledge between the trees, she's moved toward it cautiously. Underfoot, the ground had felt solid and sturdy, but Daine was mountain born and bred, and well aware that snow could hide hollows and cracks and weakness better than anything she knew.

The view the ledge afforded had been worth it. Standing several steps from the edge, Daine could through the trees and down into Onua's valley even through the fluffy flakes still falling. Not much snow had fallen further down, and the fields where Daine could make out the small forms of ponies were still a lush green. To her left, Daine could see the route they'd taken up the mountain trail as it wound along the gentler slopes. The part of the mountainside they were now on, gathering their wood, was starkly different in geologic formation to the path they'd followed. Instead of gradual increases in slopes and rockiness, the mountainside seemed to plunge in giant steps of steep, rocky walls and harsh, scrubby ledges much like the one they were gathering firewood on.

Daine marvelled at the view for several minutes longer, and frowned. The air was unnaturally quiet, even for a snowy morning in the mountains. There were no underlying scurries of little animals rushing about their business, nor were there flurries of feathers and leaves from the trees as the birds fluttered back and forth. Narrowing her eyes and staring hard at Onua's house, little more than a white toy from this distance, Daine wondered if there were people moving around it. She was too far away to tell though, and she chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

Without thinking, she had stepped forward as though to get a better look, and the minute she'd put her weight on her foot she'd realised her mistake. The ground had grumbled instantly, and she had dropped with the loose rocks and snow, barely uttering more than a shriek before the breath was knocked from her lungs as she crashed into the steep, rocky slope.

Rocks and branches and roots battered at her, snow and mud cold and wet and very much softer than the rocks slicing at her skin. She scrabbled desperately with her hands on the rocks, trying to slow her fall as she rolled further and further down.

One badly placed tree or rock, she thought desperately, and she could be dead. A broken neck, a severed spine or a cracked skull. Even a broken leg might be fatal in this countryside.

She bounced suddenly, cracking into the ground hard, rolling again, and coming to a smacking halt against a gnarled pine tree. Daine didn't move; instead she lay on her back trying to convince her smarting, aching body that she was still alive and would be fine.

Of course she'd be fine, she thought, clenching her jaw in pain. Numair would find her. He'd help her, and keep her safe. He'd look after her.

Daine wriggled her fingers and toes, relieved when they moved without any savage pain. Her hands stung, and when she lifted them so she could see them, she realised it was because they were scraped raw, fingernails hanging by tattered threads on two of her fingers on her right hand. She winced, and moved her legs. She thought maybe her collarbone was fractured, because moving her arm woke a burning pain at the base of her neck and extended into her shoulder.

A blinding bolt of pain stole her breath away when she tried to sit upright, and she closed her eyes to stop the dazzling streaks of light blossoming across her vision Broken ribs, she thought, trying to still the nausea now rolling around her in gut. At the very least, badly bruised ribs.

She cracked an eye open and gazed balefully up at the pine tree towering over her. Why couldn't his trunk have been a bit softer, she thought darkly. Gathering herself, and moving warily now that she was aware of her tender chest, Daine carefully manouvered herself so that she was sitting upright and leaning against the tree.

The snowflakes which had been falling earlier were falling faster and thicker than she remembered. Sheltered beneath the pine tree, she huddled against the trunk and watched them swirl through the sky

Numair better come soon, she thought, or he wouldn't find her in this.

---

Daine wasn't what anyone would call a good example of patience. She waited exactly two minutes before deciding she was capable of standing up and finding her way back by herself. Standing up resulted in several very uncomfortable pangs from her ribs, but on the whole the process wasn't too messy, and she felt fairly pleased with her success.

Stepping out from under the pine tree, Daine faltered. The slope she had tumbled down was… steep. Calling it a slope, Daine thought with a dry humour, was probably being generous. More like a wall. Or a sheer cliff, she thought darkly. Well, she amended silently to herself, a very steep slope. Had she had no injuries it would still have been a difficult climb. With her damaged ribs and injured shoulder, Daine wasn't entirely confident that she could make it up the slope back to the cave.

And where, she thought crossly, was Numair?

"NUMAIR!" she yelled up the slope, listening desperately for an answer. The falling snow muffled her call somewhat, and she couldn't hear any response. She yelled again, and again, and then felt a prickle of fear in her chest.

Where was Numair? Was he just going to leave her?

"NUMAIR!"

Something sounded in the distance, muffled, and she strained to hear what it was. Silence, for several seconds, and then she caught the sound again. Barking. Tahoi, Daine thought with relief.

"I'M DOWN HERE!" she yelled.

The barking was clearer now, as the dog approached. And louder. There was a small shower of pebbles that rattled down the slope, and then Tahoi bounded into sight from behind several large, scrubby bushes clinging stubbornly to the rockface.

"Oh, Tahoi!" Daine murmured, not even ashamed to feel tears of relief stinging her cheeks. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her left arm around the dog, burying her face in his warm fur.

She hadn't realised how cold and numb and scared she was, until she had Tahoi's warm body pressed against hers. The dog whined, and licked at her tears, snuffling against her cheek and nudging her with his nose.

"Thank you, Tahoi," she told him, scratching his ears. "Where's Numair?"

The dog whined again, and turned toward the slope, looking between Daine and the slope. "Up there?" Daine questioned, hoping she was wrong.

Tahoi whined again, turning to lick Daine's hand before heading toward the slope again.

"You'll have to help me," Daine him, biting her lip. "And we better hope the storms hold off a bit longer," she added, thinking about the snowflakes still whirling around her.

Climbing up the slope was very much slower than falling down it. The steep ground was rocky, and a lot of the rock was loose and scrabbly; it gave way beneath her feet and she was constantly fighting for her balance. She took several breaks, resting against the shelter of the stubborn bushes and scattered trees. Somes places were so steep or dangerous she had to drop to her hands and knees and crawl up behind Tahoi. Her ribs and arms protested angrily and painfully at the treatment, and before long Daine was crying freely. Her heaving sobs tored at her ribs and made the pain worse, but she couldn't stop her tears. When she finally crawled onto a small ledge with three large trees and several bushes, she curled up against the tree trunks and tried to rock the pain away, her fingers digging into Tahoi's fur.

Tahoi licked at her tears, his tail wagging gently. Instead of sitting next to her, as Daine might have hoped he would, he trotted away from her and disappeared behind the trees.

"Tahoi!" she called desperately. She was cold and numb and aching, and too tired to start climbing the slop again. Tahoi barked eagerly, but didn't return.

"Tahoi, no," she called. "Not yet, I'm too tired."

Tahoi barked insistently, and Daine closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength. She was forcing herself to her feet, trying to stop the world spinning and swaying madly around her, when she heard Tahoi bark again. The snowing had lessened somewhat during the last part of her climb, but the world seemed to be growing darker and darker.

"Tahoi!" Daine called weakly, clutching at the trees for balance. "Come here, Tahoi!"

She was happy to see Tahoi appearing around the trees, his tail wagging, but her knees were buckling and the world was spinning faster than ever. Just before her legs gave way completely and the world turned dark, she thought she saw Numair staggering out from the behind the tree.

He came, she thought as the world turned black, he came for her.

---

She was on fire. Her body was burning with pain and heat and cold.

"Easy, Magelet, easy," someone said as she tried to lurch upright. Her chest screamed in agony, and she would have curled up in a ball but someone was holding her tightly as the waves of pain pounded over and over and over her.

"Just breathe, Daine."

Her stomach complained angrily, and she pushed away from the arms holding her before she retched onto the ground near where she'd been lying. Hands steadied her, taking some of the weight from her painful shoulder and chest, smoothing her hair back from her face until her stomach was empty and she was so weak with pain she couldn't do anything but go limp in the arms.

"Feeling a bit better?"

Daine didn't think she'd ever felt worse in her life, and she would have told the person so had she been able to speak. As it was, she moaned, trying to flop her head back so she could see where she was and who was with her.

"Easy does it, Daine, be careful!"

"Numair?" she questioned, her voice croaking roughly in her throat.

"It's me," he said. "I'm going to help you lie down now, okay? Relax, and let me to do the work."

Even if she'd wanted to argue with him, she wouldn't have been able to because the pain in her shoulder was making her far too weak. "What happened?" she whispered, once she was settled and the world stopped spinning.

"You fell down a mountain," Numair said simply. "And if you ever do anything stupid like that again, I'll kill you myself."

"You mean I'm not dead?" Daine quipped, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to try and still the nausea still churning in her stomach.

"God no, Magelet," he whispered hoarsely. She felt his fingers brushing her hair back from her face, and let her head press into his touch. "You just dropped from sight. Do you have any idea how much you scared me?"

"I scared myself," she confessed. "It's scary falling down a mountain."

"I know," Numair said dryly. "But it was scarier seeing you fall."

"Where were you?" Daine asked, not opening her eyes. "I was waiting and you didn't come."

"Well, I thought falling down the mountain looked like fun, actually, so I thought I'd give it a try too," he said lightly.

"Numair?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, noticing for the first time the deep gash on his forehead and the scratches on his face. His hands were also torn and ragged. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't as fun as it looked," Numair smiled. "I didn't get as far down as you did; a tree stopped my fall. Unfortunately, it also knocked me out for a while."

"You get knocked out very easily," Daine told him, looking around the cave. "How did we get back here?"

"I carried you back," Numair explained. "I followed the ledge around, and it turned into a game trail. Not as steed as the slope, and a much longer walk, but it wasn't too bad."

"Thank you," Daine whispered, closing her eyes.

"You should rest," Numair said gently, running his fingers through her hair. "I'll cook something for us, you have a nap."

"You're going to cook?"

"I can see you're feeling better already if you're up to making jokes about my cooking," Numair said, his voice mock offended.

"I'm sorry, Numair," Daine said, when his fingers continued to run through her hair.

"For what?"

"Letting this happen. I didn't mean to get hurt."

"I'm sure you didn't mean to get hurt," Numair said gently. "Now rest; the snow stopped about an hour ago, and it's heading toward evening now. We'll stay here tonight, and decide what to do tomorrow."

Daine nodded tiredly, closing her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

She felt his lips graze her forehead in a gentle kiss, and she smiled at him.

"Well," an unfamiliar voice remarked loudly in their cave, "isn't this touching? Though I must say, Arram, I never figured you for a cradle-snatcher."

Daine opened her eyes as Numair jerked up and away from her, staggering to his feet.

"Ozorne," Numair said quietly, staring at the men standing in the entrance of the cave.

Tahoi moved to stand behind Numair, growling at the back of his throat in warning.

"Call the dog off, Arram, or we'll shoot it too."

To Daine's horror, she realised that several of the men were bearing long guns aimed at Numair, Tahoi and herself.

"You don't need to do that," Numair said reasonably.

Ozorne shrugged. "You didn't need to do things either, Arram, but you still did them."

Daine studied the man as he spoke. He was wrapped in a thick jacket lined with fur, and dark glasses hid his eyes from her view. His skin was olive, and his hair was dark black. It hung to his shoulders in a wavy curtain similar to Numair's, only Daine realised that Ozorne's hair was carefully moussed and gelled into place, while Numair's was due to a natural wave and moisture in the air.

"What are you going to do now?" Numair asked finally, not moving.

"I should just kill you all and leave you," Ozorne remarked, "however, Alanna will find your bodies and right now she's not in a position for me to remove her."

"You don't enjoy being bested by a woman, do you?" Numair said casually, but Daine was sure he was taunting Ozorne.

"I haven't been bested yet, Arram, by anyone," Ozorne said coldly. He turned to the man by his side. "Shoot them."

"NO!" Daine screamed.

A gun fired as Tahoi jumped toward a man. The dog's momentum carried him forward, but when he crashed into the man he did nothing more than yelp once, twitch a few times, and then lay still, a pile of fur and limbs.

"NO!" Daine screamed again, struggling to sit up. "NO!"

A second rifle was aimed at Numair's chest. Numair didn't move, and for Daine timed seemed to slow. She heard the click as the gun was cocked, and the shattering explosion of gunpower rent through the air. For a second, Daine thought maybe the man had missed because Numair didn't move.

But Numair was far too close for the man to have missed at that range. Numair took a staggering step backward, and another.

Daine was screaming as she watched Numair crash to the ground, and she didn't hear the second rapport sound as another gun was fired. She only realised that she had been shot when pain blossomed in her chest, and she looked down to see what had happened.

Her vision was blurring when she looked up at Ozorne, and then looked across at Numair. She fell back onto the bed, her world turning grey and dark.

The last thing she saw before everything faded was Numair lying unmoving beside the fire.

---

_Bwahahaha. Now is that an evil cliffie or what? Heh. Sorry, MLM, I know you hate them but I simply couldn't resist._

_Please review for me?_


	19. Chapter 19

**note: **I apologise SO MUCH for the huge amount of time between the posting of the last chapter and this one. I honestly didn't intend for it to be so long – I hadn't quite finished chapter 19 when I posted 18, but when I did finish 19 a few days ago was playing silly buggers, and I haven't been able to access it since! I hope you'll forgive me, and accept my gift of a slightly longer chapter than normal! It was especially mean, I know, given the nature of the last cliff hanger!

I promise that I'll try to be a lot more prompt and regular in the future, and have the chapters up fairly quickly!

**nineteen**

The first thing Numair became aware of was the single ache that was his body. The second nudge of awareness confused him – the air around him seemed to cling to his skin, licking at him with warm moistness that felt heavy and thick.

He opened his eyes, confused. Where was he, and what on earth had happened? The room he found himself in was beautiful - elegant, roomy and very, very expensively decorated with simple iron wrought furniture that had a definite Spanish flare. For a few seconds he wondered if he was perhaps at home with his parents again, but the room was unfamiliar and it was never this humid.

Throwing off the light sheet covering him, he slowly pulled himself upright on the bed. Beneath his feet the polished floor boards were cool and smooth – he frowned, staring at the polished floor and tried to remember what had happened. He'd been staying with Onua, he recalled, but the floor in his little room wasn't nearly as nice as the floor currently beneath his feet.

His eyes widened as he remembered a wild dash up a mountainside in a storm, and then snow… and… _Ozorne!_ Numair's hands flew to his chest, surprised to discover it bare and completely whole. He'd been shot, he thought dully, shot in the chest. He'd felt the burning agony as the needle had pierced his skin-

Needle.

He must have been shot with a tranquiliser, no doubt. Which meant that Ozorne had wanted him alive for some reason. Numair bit on his lip and hoped to God that Ozorne had kept Daine alive too, and that she was safe.

The most pressing concern now, Numair decided as he tried to rise to his feet, was where he was and what was going to happen next. Unfortunately, his limbs weren't behaving the way he expected them too. The after-effects from the tranquilizer made themselves known abruptly as a wave of nausea washed over him, bringing with it the first heavy pounding of a throbbing headache, and the strange sensation that his arms and legs had turned into overcooked noodles.

He fell unceremoniously to the floor, and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the world would stop spinning like an out of control merry-go-round.

"Come now, Arram, I know you respect me, but _prostating_ yourself? I must say, I am flattered."

Ozorne's voice reached Numair through a hazy fog of nausea and pain. He cracked an eyelid open and found himself looking at the very shiney toe of a black leather riding boot. His stomach rebelled at the smell of boot polish, and he squeezed his eyelids shut again as he heaved. The next time he opened his eyes, Ozorne's boots weren't as shiney as they had been.

Numair only had time for a satisfied smirk before the once shiney boots, now covered in his vomit, lashed toward him and stars exploded across his vision, turning quickly to blissful unconsciousness.

---

It was evening the next time he woke. This time, Numair remembered almost immediately what had happened, and he didn't try to get up from the bed he was once again lying in. He turned his head slowly, observing the spacious room. In one wall a large set of glass doors led out to what Numair assumed was a patio – beyond the marble railings he could see the bright glow of strategically placed garden lights, and he was sure he could hear the sound of water fountains mingling with crickets.

The breeze was wonderfully cool on his hot skin, and he closed his eyes, trying to think of what to do next.

Best get up, he supposed, sighing internally. Hopefully this time he wouldn't collapse again. While vomitting on Ozorne's boots had definitely given him a strange satisfaction, he would prefer not to go through that experience again. Not to mention the fact that the right side of his face was throbbing and very, very tender.

When he sat up again, the world didn't spin and he was relieved to feel that the nausea had subsided. Unfortunately, the side of his face ached even more at the movement, but there wasn't really much Numair could do about it now.

A clean pair of black chinos and a crisp white shirt were neatly hung over a clothes stand. Numair eyed them thoughtfully, along with the large pair of black loafers and socks sitting beside them. Shrugging, he decided he might as well see if they fit – he'd rather be dressed when attempting an escape than semi-naked running around God knows where in only his boxers.

They fit as though they'd come from his own wardrobe, and Numair couldn't help but admire his reflection in the mirror. It had been a while since he'd seen himself dressed in something other than jeans and flannels, and he'd forgotten what a decent set of clothes did for a man's self confidence. He spied a hairbrush on a vanity, and as he pulled it through his hair he investigated the closed doors set around the room.

The first door he tried was locked. Doubtlessly it was the one that would let him out, he imagined. One door led to a walk-in-wardrobe, compete with clothing that Numair had a sneaking supicion would fit him just as well as the clothes he was currently wearing. Another led to an elegant bathroom with a large marble tub and an extensive variety of lotions, soaps and creams. Again, Numair helped himself, rinsing his face, brushing his teeth and rubbing some cream onto his hands. He also took the opportunity to shave and tie his hair back from his face. It felt very decadent, and Numair wondered what exactly was going on. If he was capture by Ozorne, shouldn't there at least be thugs with guns and threatening glares, rather than a bathroom with nice soap and fluffy towels?

When he emerged from the bathroom, an olive-skinned woman was standing in his room.

"Master Ozorne will see you now, Master Draper," she said, leading him to the door which had previously been locked.

Numair's suspicions that this was a sprawling mansion were confirmed when he entered a long hallway with expensive tiles and high ceilings. The maid led him down a sweeping staircase which gave a grand entrance to the main hall. Here, the walls and floors were grey marble and the furniture was simple elegance – everything expensive. It was, Numair thought, very similar to his parents' house.

Looking at it now, after having spent a few weeks in Onua's cramped little cottage with her worn couch and dented floors, he felt a little uncomfortable with the wealth and opulence on display. It felt extravagent and unnecessary, and he almost longed for a basin of fresh water so he could wash the expensive lotions from his hands – they suddenly smelt far too overpowering.

He missed the scent of pine trees, he thought, and ponies of all things.

His musings aside, the maid led him into a large drawing room where several men were seated. Ozorne, dressed in a light white suit with a gold chain around his neck was standing before a mantel which Numair doubted had ever had a fire lit in it.

The maid left him standing in the middle of the floor, and exited the room.

"You stand this time," Ozorne said, looking at Numair disdainfully. "I think maybe you should prostate yourself again, to remind yourself of your great respect for me."

"Should I throw up on your boots again too?" Numair asked blandly.

"Perhaps you want your other eye to match the beautiful purple bruise I see," Ozorne said acidly. "I imagine the cut will leave a scar, and that will marr your beautiful features."

Numair had been concerned with the cut when he glimpsed it in the mirror, but now standing before Ozorne he found he couldn't care less about a damn scar.

"What do you want, Ozorne?" he sighed.

"I want you to bow before me."

"I've already done that once today, and I try not to make it a habit at the best of times."

"Bow!" Ozorne commanded.

Numair was about to open his mouth in protest when a smarting blow seared across the backs of his knees. Involuntarily his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, his kneecaps cracking painfully on the hard marble. Something – a foot, he thought – pressed into his back and squashed him against the floor. The marble was cold and hard against his cheek and it was difficult to breathe.

"Better," Ozorne said. "Now you may look at me."

The pressure was lifted from his back and Numair tried to stand up. The person behind him, however, knocked him down roughly, keeping him on his knees.

"I am greatly sorrowed, Arram," Ozorne said, shaking his head in a great display of sadness, "at what you tried to do. Imagine my surprise when I realised you lied to me."

Numair shrugged – there wasn't really anything to add to the fact that he had lied to Ozorne about his identiy.

"However, I was always fond of you, Arram. You, unlike many I am surrounded by, have a brilliant mind and when you were with us, you were invaluable."

"What are you getting at, Ozorne?"

Ozorne's eyes glinted. "I do not like being betrayed. Especially not by those I trusted."

Numair snorted. "You never trust anyone," he pointed out.

"For good reason. You would have betrayed me to Alanna and George Cooper," Ozorne spat. "You would have me ruined, after all I did for you."

"You're a criminal," Numair said bluntly. "You murder people."

Ozorne smiled. "You make it sound so crude and thoughtless, Arram. I remove people who are a hindrance or a danger to my survival."

"You kill them."

"I could kill you where you sit. Then I would not have to worry myself about you betraying me or giving evidence to people like Alanna."

"Then kill me and get it over with, Ozorne," Numair said tiredly.

Ozorne smiled. "I told you, Arram, I was fond of you."

"My name is Numair, not Arram."

"Do not interrupt me, Arram," Ozorne warned, stepping away from the fireplace. "I told you I greatly admired your intelligence, and that you were a great benefit to my work."

"I'm not working for you again," Numair said. "I won't break the law."

"A fine man with honour," Ozorne said mockingly. "A pity you would betray friends and those who took you in."

"You aren't a friend, Ozorne, you're a criminal and a murderer!"

"I suppose you have discovered the meaning of real friends then," Ozorne said blandly. "Tell me, Arram, is the taste of youth better than the taste of sophistication?"

Numair blanched at the implication that he and Daine were involved sexually.

"Varice missed you when you left," Ozorne continued languidly. "She is here though, and will see you if you want."

"Where is here?" Numair, desperate for a distraction.

"Here is where we are, and that is all you need to know," Ozorne said with finality. "You will not be able to leave this place, even if you did know where it was."

"So why not kill me?"

"Your mind is no use to me dead."

"It's not going to be any use to you alive either," Numair retorted.

"No, you are wrong," Ozorne smiled. "I think you will be very happy and willing to once again be a part of our ventures after you have heard the terms."

"I don't think so," Numair said calmly.

"This is a nice house, is it not?" Ozorne questioned suddenly.

"If you go for the big marble expensive sort of thing, yes," Numair agreed.

"It is your taste, this," Ozorne said firmly. "I remember, and your family has sophistication. I would not expect less from a Salmalín."

"What does any of this matter?"

"You will live here. This will be yours."

"I don't want to live here, and I don't need this to be mine."

"The grounds are very large. An entire island, in fact. The beaches are safe and warm, and there is lots of jungle to explore."

"An island?"

"A tropical island," Ozorne agreed, smiling. "You will be quite happy here – servants, seclusion, comfort. The best of everything."

"I don't like the tropics," Numair complained. "They're humid and sticky and have too many insects."

Ozorne raised his eyebrows. "I have other islands in cooler climates, but I thought you and your friend might appreciate the beaches. The sunsets are very romantic."

Numair stared at Ozorne. "My friend?" he asked hesitantly.

"A beautiful young girl, for whom you apparently will go to great lengths for."

"Where is Daine?" Numair demanded.

"Now now, Arram, don't get so excited. The young girl is sleeping – she was injured in her fall down that mountain, and she needs her rest."

"Damn it, where is she?" Numair yelled, struggling to rise to his feet.

"Now you listen to me," Ozorne said with satisfaction.

"If you hurt her, Ozorne, I swear to God I will kill you!"

Ozorne smiled with satisfaction. "The girl will be fine, Numair, and she will stay here on the island with you in safety. In return, you will lend us your brilliance and help us when we need you."

A dark, sickening feeling made Numair's empty stomach churn uneasily. He felt trapped; netted and caught and ready to be hung on display. "What if I won't?" he asked quietly.

"The girl is still young, and I imagine she will have a long life ahead of her. I do not think you would like to see that life cut short, would you?"

"You wouldn't," Numair whispered.

Ozorne smiled. "Love is a weakness, Arram, and it has made you weaker than you were. It is your choice whether the girl lives or dies."

"I don't love her," Numair said firmly. "We're not involved."

"You don't love her, yet you save her and try to protect her? You even ride a horse for her, and do hard labour."

"It wasn't for her," Numair said angrily. "It was for me."

Ozorne laughed. "Yes," he said, "I am certain Arram Draper would willingly decide to ride horses and drag around hay bales for his own personal benefit."

Numair kept quiet, trying to remember the way the breeze felt as it blew against his skin full of pine trees and grass and mountain freshness. He couldn't lose his temper; he had to convince Ozorne that Daine meant very little to him and it was purely her safety he was concerned for. He couldn't let Ozorne believe she meant more to him (not, he assured himself, that she actually _did_ mean more to him) than just a friend.

"If you let her go home, I'll do what you want," Numair promised.

Ozorne laughed again. "I am not stupid, Arram. These are the terms, and the choice is yours. You are free to do what you like while you stay here – I have told you, there is no way you can escape so I do not need to keep you under guard."

"Where is Daine?" Numair asked. "I don't believe you have her."

"Kaddar will show you," Ozorne said imperiously. "You do remember Kaddar, Arram?"

Ozorne's nephew was taller and more grown up than Numair remembered him, but he recognised the young man easily. He was sad that Kaddar had been caught up in his uncle's activities, but from memory Kaddar had always been clever with a lot of integrity. Maybe he would help Numair.

"This way," Kaddar said, walking toward the door.

Numair followed silently, and realised that he probably should be grateful that he and Daine were both still alive. And maybe Alanna would find them.

He didn't put much stock in that hope though; Numair was familiar enough with Ozorne to know that he wouldn't be so cocky and confident unless he was certain of his success.

It was up to Numair then, to find a way off the island and to help. He only hoped he could do it, because it was unlikely Daine would be happy about living here for the rest of her life, no matter how beautiful and lush the surroundings were.

---

_You all know the drill by now – click the small box and leave a review ;)_


	20. Chapter 20

**twenty**

The air felt unlike anything Daine had ever experienced before. It was sticky and thick and smelt sweet like over-ripe fruit. She was standing on a small balcony which led off the room she was locked in; beneath her barefeet the stone was deliciously cool. A sluggish breeze stirred half heartedly at her hair, but it did little too cool her. Her thick hair was curling wildly and sticking to the skin of her neck and cheeks with sweat; she felt hot and sticky and very uncomfortable.

Where was she, she wondered, her eyes resting on the dark, rich landscape turned silver by the large moon hanging silently in the sky. It looked like something she'd seen in magazines – an azure ocean peeked at her from between palm trees and grass. In the trees she heard the loud and vibrant shrieks of foreign birds and screeching mammals – monkeys, she assumed, given the climate.

The maid and doctor who had seen to her when she woke had refused to tell her where she was and what was happening. They'd also refused to answer questions about Numair, and Daine was scared to think about what had happened to him. Perhaps, she dared to hope, he'd only been drugged the same as her, though she couldn't see why Ozorne would want to keep him alive.

For that matter, she thought quietly, why would Ozorne go to all this trouble to keep her alive? Evidently she'd been unconscious long enough for the man to get her to this tropical hide away with rich rooms and beautiful views. There were no tropics near Onua's farm, the last time Daine had checked, and she was fairly certain they didn't just appear out of nowhere either.

A movement in the room behind her alerted her to someone's presence, and she turned around carefully, wary of her aching shoulder and ribs.

"Numair!" she cried out, catching sight of his familiar, lanky frame. Relief hit her, so heavy her knees felt weak and unable to hold her up.

"Easy, Magelet," he said, stepping onto the balcony and steadying her. "Are you okay?"

"My collar bone is broken, and some of my ribs are cracked," she told him. "But I'm fine. Where are we, Numair, and what's going on?"

Now that he was here, she couldn't seem to keep the cold fingers of fear away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to press herself against him and let him keep her safe in his arms.

"I'm not sure where we are," he said honestly, looking at her view. "Your view is nicer than mine; my rooms look out over the jungle."

"Numair?" she asked, confused. Why was he thinking about views and referring to the rooms as theirs?

"We're on an island, Daine. A god forsaken island in the middle of nowhere."

"Why?"

He laughed bitterly. "Ozorne is fond me," he said darkly. "He wants to use my mind."

"You won't help him though. Will you?" she asked uncertainly. "What's wrong, Numair?"

He sighed, leaning over and burying his face in his hands as he rested his elbows on the stone railing. "He's keeping us hostage, Daine. There's no way to get off this island; if there was, I wouldn't have the freedom I do now."

"I'm locked in my room," Daine pointed out crossly, "that's hardly freedom."

"If you wanted to, you could climb down the balcony when your arm's better," Numair pointed out idly. "Besides, your door's unlocked now, and we're alone."

It was true, Daine realised looking back into the room. The door was standing wide open and the room was conspiciously empty.

"I still don't understand, Numair."

"Ozorne is holding you as his ace," Numair said finally. "We both stay happy and safe as long as I do what I'm told. As soon as I act up or disobey, he'll kill you."

The words, said so blandly and emptily, sent a cold feeling through Daine's veins. Kill her. Ozorne spoke as though she were nothing more than an object to be utilised to gain his means. Anger sparked in her; she was more than just a hostage or a lever to get Numair to do what Ozorne desired.

"And you agreed?" she asked in disbelief.

"I don't exactly have a choice," Numair pointed out dryly. "Even if I did decide to not agree to his oh-so-generous offer, what would I do? I can't actually do anything of use to get us off this island. You know how capable I am when it comes to stuff that's actually necessary."

"Why me though?" Daine asked, frowning. "Would it make more sense to use someone you cared about?"

Numair laughed. "Ozorne thinks I care about you," he said darkly. "In fact, he made several very suggestive comments."

"How does he know so much about us?" Daine asked quietly.

"I don't know," Numair admitted. "I forgot to ask. When I see him again, I'll ask him."

"Don't be daft, Numair," Daine said crossly. "He's obviously assuming more than he knows, elsewise he'd have it right, wouldn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he thinks you care about me… well… you know. But you don't. Do you?"

Numair hesitated, and avoided her gaze. "You're right," he said at length. "I'll just have to convince him that I don't care about you the way he thinks I do, and maybe he'll let you go."

Daine didn't bothering telling Numair that it was highly unlikely Ozorne would let her go. In fact, she probably was almost as dangerous to Ozorne now as Numair was – afterall, she was involved with the whole mess now.

---

She didn't like the tropics, Daine decided a little later. The thick air was heavy and it was almost too hard to breathe. She longed for the light, crisp air of the mountains laced with sweet valleys and a hint of woodsmoke.

"I'm hungry," she told Numair, stepping into the large room he said was hers and looking around.

"You should get changed," Numair said from where he was lounging on a small sofa. "From memory, Ozorne likes people to be formal when they eat."

"I'm not here to please Ozorne," Daine said darkly.

"You would like to stay alive though, wouldn't you?" Numair returned. "Besides, maybe you can get on his good side and convince him that you're not interested in me…."

Numair's eyes lit up, and he bit on his lip, studying her. "Actually…"

"What?"

"I don't want you to hate me for asking or suggesting this, okay?" he said tentatively.

"What, Numair?"

"Ozorne's a jealous type," he said slowly. "Maybe he'll try and steal you from me."

Daine looked at him disbelievingly. "He might try to steal me from you?" she repeated bluntly. "Won't that defy the point of him keeping me here as a hostage?"

Numair shrugged. "Maybe you could play up to it though," Numair suggested, staring at the carpet. "Make him believe you don't like me, you're angry at me for dragging you into this. Anyway, he's richer than I am. All you have to do is bat your eyelids, admire and simper, and he'd be happy to show off for you."

"Why would I do that?" Daine asked coldly.

"If you convince him you like him, instead of me, he might let you leave," Numair said quietly. "Then you just have to get word to Alanna of where I am."

"I don't know where we are," Daine reminded him pointedly.

"Ozorne owns the island. Alanna and her friends could find which islands Ozorne owns and then they can rescue me."

"That's a stupid plan," Daine snapped, scowling. "I'm not leaving you here alone, Numair."

"Then you probably won't leave at all."

"Since when are you so pessimistic?" she demanded angrily.

"I'm always pessimistic," Numair retorted.

"You just pretend you are, Numair. You pretend to like nothing and no one just so you don't have to get close to people. You pretend to be so miserable because it's a way for you to stop people knowing when you hurt or are embarrassed or scared."

"Since when are you such an authority and what I'm like?" he demanded harshly. "You've known me for less than three weeks!"

"So?" Daine countered. "I know enough about you to know that you're being stupid. I trust you, Numair, and this will work out okay."

He studied her for several long minutes, his dark eyes unreadable in the warm glow of the lamps around the opulent room. "Get dressed," he said finally. "They'll probably send a maid when they're ready to serve the food."

---

Daine felt incredibly uncomfortable dressed the way she was. When she'd refused to get dressed for dinner, Numair had risen from his chair with a scowl and disappeared into what Daine knew was a walk-in wardrobe. He'd reappeared a few minutes later with a dove grey piece of silk and flung it at her carelessly, ordering her to change.

She'd obeyed, a little intimidated by his angry tone and flashing eyes. Maybe she'd pushed him a little, said things she shouldn't have, but really, the man was worse than a spoilt pony.

The dress he'd chosen was simple – spaghetti strap shoulders and an elegant cut which fell to her ankles. The spaghetti straps made it easy for her to get her arm in it, and she had to admit that it felt much cooler than the neat black trousers and button up shirt she'd been in several minutes before.

But her hair. Her hair was a mess. She'd have to try and do something about it, she thought with resigation.

It was an usual, if not downright odd situation, she mused as she studied her reflection, considering her wayward hair. Being held hostage by a dangerous criminal who provided beautiful clothes and very nice prison cells wasn't something she'd ever expected of a kidnapper. She's always assumed they went for the cold, dark cells with ropes and very little food. Then again, maybe she'd read too many Nancy Drew books as a child.

"Are you done yet, Daine? We have to go now," Numair called through the door.

"I need to do my hair," she called back.

But her arm was painful; she couldn't lift both hands to her head to fight with her stubborn curls.

"Everything okay?" Numair called in response.

"No," she sighed, walking to the door and opening. "I can't do my hair," she told him.

He was silent for several long seconds, staring at her with his mouth forming a perfect 'o' in surprise. "You're gorgeous!" he announced, sounding dumbfounded.

"No need to act so surprised, Numair," she told him gruffly, knowing her cheeks were flushed with an embrassed pleasure. "My hair?" she said edgily.

"Here," he said, taking the brush from her fingers and propelling her towards a vanity. "Sit down."

She obeyed, watching her reflection in the mirror. Daine had never anticipated a man would be better had handling and working with her hair than she was, but then she supposed that Numair dealt with his own hair every day, so he had to know some tricks.

"I have a few sisters," he told her as he worked, his eyes focused on her hair in concentration. "They showed me a few things. None of them, had hair like yours though."

"My hair's not that special," Daine said quietly. Brown, thick and curly, it usually caused more problems and drew the attention of mother's who would shake their heads in dismay at the state of messiness it was constantly in.

"It's beautiful," he said. "Nice and thick and curly. My sisters all have very straight, very black hair. It's beautiful, but not eye catching."

"Mine's not eye catching," she pointed out, staring at her reflection in amazement.

"The sun lightens your hair," Numair said. "It gives it life."

The woman staring back at her, was not Daine Sarrasri. It was an pretty young woman with large, grey eyes and a surprisingly elegant face. "I'm pretty," Daine breathed, staring in wonder.

Behind her, she saw Numair's smile in the reflection. "You are," he agreed. "Hold on."

He rummaged around the draws in the vanity, and produced a simple necklace and earrings. "Here," he said, slipping the cold chain around her neck. The earrings were small, silver tear drops. Plain and elegant, and they set the dress of beautifully.

"We don't have time for a make-up lesson now, but I'll teach you that tomorrow," he teased gently, straightening the chain around her neck. "There. You look beautiful."

She looked at herself carefully for a few more minutes, and then smiled widely at her reflection. That might not be Daine Sarrasri staring back at her, but Daine felt pretty damn good about her.

Numair helped her slip pretty sandals onto her feet, and then stepped back to look at her. "Shall we?" Numair asked, holding out his arm. She took it and grinned up at him. Surreal, she thought, this entire situation was surreal. Going to dinner with her captor dressed to the nines. Despite everything, she thought, holding onto Numair's arm, she felt pretty good actually.

Together they followed the maid who'd waited patiently for them.

---

_This has been an incredibly long fic – a lot longer than I anticipated it being when I first started writing & posting it. Some of you guys have been reading this fic the ENTIRE way through, and posting reviews on almost every single chapter. I want to say thank you to all of you who did that especially, because it's encouraged me to actually keep going with this and finish! So, thank you to: _

_Zerrin of the Wind, Narm's Briton 44, Alanna the Marauder, laurashrub, Lady Knight 1512, kelsey, nativewildmage, elspethana, TheBrassPotato, mistywabbit, slightlyunhinged, bojanglesbiscuit, Smarie, Mage of Dragons, Ace Ryn Knight, confusedpink, brokefang05, just because I said so. _

_There are others of you that have reviewed too, but these guys have been absolutely fantastic in their support so I figured they deserved a little praise! And, you know, more reviews would be lovely!_


	21. Chapter 21

_For those of you wondering – Numair **was**__only teasing Daine about the makeup in the previous chapter!_

**twenty one**

Numair supposed it was downright strange, as opposed to a little unusual, that he and Daine were both dressed beautifully and on their way to dinner with Ozorne, but he'd decided that if he had to deal with Ozorne, he was at least going to look presentable. And having someone as beautiful as Daine on his arm while he entered the room to face his demon was definitely a source of courage and confidence.

"Now, Arram, you must introduce me properly to your lady friend," Ozorne said.

"Ozorne, this is Daine. Daine, this is Ozorne," Numair said blandly.

"And you are exquisite indeed," Ozorne said grandly, plucking Daine's hand from Numair's arm and lifting it to his lips for a kiss. Numair was tempted to try and punch Ozorne for the gesture, but he realised that it was unlikely he'd get much further than raising his arm before Ozorne's thugs were onto him. "How are you feeling, Daine?"

"Fine," Daine said shortly.

Ozorne smiled winningly at her, his white teeth gleaming. "Come now, my dear, we will be spending a lot of time together in the future. We must get along, for that time to pass easily."

Numair could see Daine opening her mouth to give a scathing reply, but he jostled her gently, despite the pain it would cause her. She couldn't say anything and mess up her chances of getting into Ozorne's good books! Daine gasped at the pain his cruel jostling brought upon her, jerking away from Numair's hold.

"Arram!" Ozorne admonished. "That is no way to treat an injured young lady! Come my dear, and sit with me for a bit. We will talk, while Arram is reacquainted with his old friends."

Numair wanted to ask what Ozorne meant, when an achingly familiar voice floated through the air to him.

"Arram!" the woman said clearly. "Oh, Arram, I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Varice," Numair said, looking at the woman. A dark blue silk dress highlighted her beautiful eyes, and the hair Numair had once lovingly pulled his fingers through looked as soft and silken as ever. "How are you, Varice?"

"How are you, Varice?" she mimicked. "Is that all you can say to me, Arram Draper, after all these years?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" Numair demanded.

"Nothing," Varice pouted prettily. "But I think a kiss hello is warranted."

Numair didn't particularly want to kiss Varice in front of Daine, but then he remembered his brilliant scheme of convincing Ozorne that he didn't really care about Daine. Varice's lips tasted like lipstick and rich wine that was almost too sweet; he longed suddenly for the taste of starlight again, but the memory was fleeting and he pulled away to look into Varice's smiling eyes.

"I never forgot you, you know," she said quietly, lifting a hand to his face. "I wondered what happened to you."

Numair had always been a ladies' man, but he had also remembered Varice. Varice had been the woman who had kept him captivated for the longest. She could be brilliant, he'd often thought to himself as he studied her body after their love making. Her mind was as sharp as a needle; she could be anything she wanted to be. Yet all Varice had wanted to do was entertain at parties and have her photo taken.

At one point he remembered she wanted to be a fashion model, but one photo shoot had convinced her she wasn't fond of standing in awkward positions for long periods of time, so she'd quickly gone back to being Ozorne's entertainer.

And, Numair thought darkly, not really listening to Varice's chatter, he was certain her entertainment had extended to Ozorne's bed as well. After all, Ozorne had always been jealous of Numair, despite his power and control, and Numair had become aware over time that everything he had, ended up with Ozorne. Even Varice, apparently.

And now Daine, he thought with a pang.

"Tell me, Arram, who is the country bumpkin?" Varice asked, still smiling at him, but he could see a glimmer of jealousy and annoyance in her eyes.

"Daine," Numair answered simply, and then braced himself for what he was about to say. "She looks nice, but she is rather backward, if you know what I mean."

Varice grinned and laughed delightfully. "Oh, wonderful!" she gushed. "Ozorne tried to tell me you and the little hen were involved, you know. Of course, I couldn't see Arram Draper ever looking twice at someone who doesn't have a manicure or wear silk."

Numair forced a smile onto his face. "You knew me too well," he managed, trying not to sound strangled.

The cold hard fact of the matter was, that at one point in time Varice was right about him. Had it only been three weeks since he'd first met Daine? Since the young girl, her ponies and a bitter woman with a battered past had ripped his sophisticated, snobbish world from under his feet and introduced him to the concept of _life_? Where once he would have wondered the best way to flirt and bed a woman without committing to her, he now cared about a girl with wild brown hair and a soft, pouting mouth even though he'd done precious little more than kiss her once or twice?

"Do I still know you?" Varice asked him, her voice surprisingly serious and her eyes boring into his.

Numair smiled at her. "Of course you do, Varice. You knew me better than anyone did."

"And now?"

Numair shrugged. "Not many people know me well at all; you know that."

She appeared satisfied with his answer, and smiled again. Varice was a beautiful woman, Numair knew, and her mind had kept him challenged while they were together. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to convince Ozorne that Numair didn't hold feelings for Daine, especially not when Varice was holding onto his arm and pressing her body against his.

Numair didn't turn to look at Daine; instead he smiled down at Varice and slipped his arm around her waist, his hand resting just a touch too far below the curve of her hip to be considered decent or platonic.

Varice's smile widened. "We're sitting together at dinner, you know," she told him happily.

"Wonderful," Numair forced another smile. "How much of you am I permitted to see this time?"

The double entendre flowed from his lips as easily as they used too, and by Varice's smile she understood and enjoyed the banter. "Oh, I'm staying in the villa for a while," she said airily, though not specifying. "I do think, though, that it's up to you how much of me you want to see."

Despite his confusion over his feelings for Daine, and the startling changes in his personality over the last few weeks, Numair really did like Varice. She was intelligent, funny and usually sweet. He'd considered her a friend at one stage, and even though she was in bed with the enemy, he still cared about her.

After all, the first time you thought yourself in love always left a lasting impact on a man. Even if it wasn't really love, only a very strong case of lust accompanied by pretty words out of a generous mouth.

"Well," he said huskily, guiding her toward the table, "I would like to see as much of you as possible."

"I'm certain that could be arranged," she demured.

---

In the years since Numair had worked for Ozorne, it appeared that Ozorne's tastes had grown more sophisticated. The food was aboslutely devine and perfect for the tropical weather – it wasn't heavy enough to make them feel uncomfortable, yet light enough to feel that they'd had a substantial meal and would easily be sated until morning.

Numair let his gaze wonder around the table as he ate. Other than Daine, Ozorne, Kaddar and Varice, none of the other diners looked familiar to Numair. He wasn't fooled by them dressing in suits and having table manners – he'd seen the outlines and shapes of several guns and holsters against dinner jackets and shirts when the men had moved – these men were here as Ozorne's guard and personal thugs.

Ozorne sat at the head of the large table, with Numair to his left and Kaddar to his right. Beside Kaddar, Daine was having difficulty eating, and Numair narrowed his eyes as Kaddar gallantly leant over and helped Daine cut her food into small portions.

"Thanks," he heard Daine say.

"Not a problem. I broke my collar bone once, and it was hard to cut anything until it was mended."

Daine smiled and held Kaddar's eyes for a moment longer than Numair felt was truly necessary. He really hoped Kaddar didn't make a play for Daine, he thought, scowling. A soft hand rested on his forearm.

"Numair?" Varice asked, looking at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Numair said shortly, lifting the food to his lips.

"You were scowling at Kaddar," Varice whispered so no one could hear him.

"I wasn't," Numair lied. "I was upset because of Daine's table manners."

Varice nodded. "Yes, you can certainly tell she comes from the mountains," she agreed quietly, smirking slightly. "Still, she looks pretty enough, and I know Kaddar gets very lonely when he's here at the villa."

The words stabbed at something inside Numair like hot knives covered in acid. He forced himself not to say anything, and focused on his dinner. Why should it matter to him anyway whether Daine returned a boy's interest or not? Numair had flirted and had fun with more than enough girls to know it was commonplace and enjoyable for both involved.

But it was _Daine,_ he thought plaintively. Daine wouldn't do that sort of thing. Would she? She was sweet and innocent and… and.. _his._

The thought startled Numair and he dropped his fork, splattering a deliciously cold rice salad all over his plate, the table cloth and his trousers.

"That will not do at all, Arram!" Ozorne said crossly, wiping at his white suit which now bore two small red stains. "Did you forget your manners when you changed your name?"

"Numair is my real name," Numair said coldly. "Arram Draper was an alias I created during one of my more adventurous tempter tantrums."

Ozorne smiled at him, but Numair wasn't stupid enough to believe Ozorne was amused. "You lied to us all from the beginning," Ozorne said calmly, his gaze not once straying from Numair's. "I trusted you like a brother," he continued. "I gave you everything you wanted. And look what you do to us."

"You don't trust anyone," Numair said, ignoring the last accusations. "Besides, you don't have a brother."

"I trusted you as I would trust a brother," Ozorne re-emphasized. "Which is more than I trust most. You threw that in my face, and made me a laughing stock in my own work. I do not appreciate that."

"Then why keep me alive?" Numair demanded again. "Why not just kill me, if I betrayed and hurt you so much?"

Ozorne smiled coldly. "To kill you quickly would not give me enough satisfaction. Keeping Arram Draper – or Numair Salmalín – captive on an island with little to hold his attention will drive you insane," Ozorne said. "You have Daine now, and Varice, but we all know how you tire of women."

Numair's cheeks were burning with anger and shame. "You're playing with me. This is all some sick, twisted game for you to get even with me for what I did to you."

Ozorne smiled. "No one spits in my face and walks away, Arram. No one."

Numair studied Ozorne. Once, this man had been his savior and friend. Someone who'd respected Numair's mind and intelligence, and had made him feel useful and wanted - something his family had never quite managed to achieve. He'd done his best for Ozorne and had stayed with him a lot longer than he'd have thought he would. But ultimately, Numair liked his freedom, and the longer he stayed with Ozorne the shorter and tighter Ozorne had pulled the reins. So Numair had left one night, leaving a letter of apology and disappearing out of Ozorne's circle.

"I appreciated what you did for me, Ozorne, but you knew I wasn't going to stay around for ever," Numair said quietly.

"Yet you would go to the law and betray me."

"You _murdered_ someone!" Numair said, outraged. "You say you know me, Ozorne, then you'd know that I wouldn't be part of something that murders people or breaks the law."

Ozorne smiled. "You will be now," he said calmly. "You will work as before, with Kaddar and Lindhall, or be responsible for the consequences."

Numair couldn't stop his eyes flicking to Daine who had stopped eating and was now, along with the rest of the table, paying close attention to the conversation between him and Ozorne. He looked back at Ozorne. "You've dragged an innocent into this," he said quietly. "Daine is nothing more than a friend, Ozorne, and you've dragged her into this to play your sick games."

"Whether you are involved or not," Ozorne said, "you care about her. My operative at the hospital indicated it, and when we found you your actions proved it. You, Arram, brought this upon her by offering her the same sparkling lies of your trust and friendship. How long before you tired of farm animals and riding through the rain? How long before you cast her aside in favor of your university parties and illusions of grandeur? I did her a favor, Numair. At least now she will have your undivided attention."

"I'd hardly say it's undivided," Numair drawled, looking deliberately at Varice.

Ozorne grinned. "I doubt Daine's attention will be undivided either."

Numair tried to tell himself the jealousy he felt at those words meant nothing to him, and he refused to let himself look at Daine. "Then there's not much reason for keeping her here, is there?"

Ozorne grinned again, turning his attention back to the food in front of him. "Oh, but Arram, you try so hard to get her away from here that I think perhaps you _care_ about her being here. You don't want her here because you fear for her here. Why would I send her away?"

Numair scowled down at his plate; the delicious food in front of him lost its appeal and he wondered if he could force himself to throw up again. Hopefully this time on Ozorne's white suit, instead of his leather boots.

Varice's perfume was sweet and intoxicating as she leant close to him. "Don't worry about her," Varice said quietly. "If Kaddar likes her, she'll be fine. Ozorne will keep her around so his nephew has something to play with."

The words were meant to soothe him, Numair realized, and he wondered why they actually made him feel worse.

---

_Whee! Jealousy and betrayal and drama, drama, drama!_

_I apologize in advance if my future updates are sporadic – I'm back at full time work now, and the nature of my work means I'm often away from home and computers for several days at a time. I promise I'll try and post/update as much as possible and not withhold chapters I've already written, even if it means flooding you guys with a few chapters each time I update!_

_Oh – reviews? Please? Remember, I AM shameless!_


	22. Chapter 22

**twenty two**

Daine tried very hard to ignore Numair's behaviour. However, with Varice sitting across from her at the dinner table it was hard to ignore their whispering and stolen touches. She knew that Numair was trying to convey to Ozorne that he and Daine weren't sharing the kind of relationship Ozorne thought they were, but she didn't think that gave Numair any reason to carry on with an old girlfriend.

Why not? a little voice inside her wanted to know. Numair has never made any promises or commitments to you, has he? He agreed that he didn't care about you that way, and told you in so many words that the two of you are only friends.

Besides, the voice added snidely, he apparently likes women with large breasts and empty heads. You have neither.

"Are you feeling well, Daine?" a warm voice asked hesitantly at her shoulder.

She smiled at Kaddar – he was sweet and appeared very considerate – and nodded. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Is your arm bothering you?"

Her arm was hurting and though it wasn't unbearable, it made an easy excuse for her pale face and wandering attention. "Yes," she said, "a little."

"Perhaps you would like some more medication for the pain?"

"No, thanks, I'll be fine." The drugs made her woozy and dizzy, and Daine didn't like being control of herself. "I think I just need some fresh air."

"The air outside is too hot and sticky," Kaddar said dismissively. "It is better in here with the air conditioning."

"Still, I might just take a quick breather," Daine smiled at him, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Easy," Kaddar said, steadying her. "Uncle, Daine and I are going for a walk," he said to Ozorne.

"Excellent," Ozorne said approvingly. "The beach is very peaceful and beautiful at night," he suggested firmly.

"Yes, Uncle," Kaddar agreed. "This way, Daine."

She snuck a look at Numair as she slipped her unhurt arm into the crook of Kaddar's elbow; Numair's face was dark and closed and she knew him well enough to know he was livid with her going for a walk with Kaddar.

Daine felt strangely powerful and in control as she walked away with Kaddar – Numair wasn't the only one who could play this game.

---

As Ozorne had said, the beach was absolutely beautiful. In the light of the full moon the water gleamed a dark silver and the white sand almost glowed underfoot. Daine had only ever been to the ocean twice before in her life, and she had never seen it at night before. She stared, entranced by the view.

"Watch the waves," Kaddar instructed. "As they break they have a green sparkle in them. Do you see it?"

"Yes," Daine breathed in awe, watching the water light up inside. "What is it?"

"Bioluminescence," Kaddar explained. "Tiny little creatures like jelly fish in the water, so small you can barely see the them. The movement makes them light up."

"It's beautiful," Daine murmured. "Is it dangerous?"

"No," Kaddar said, shaking his head. "The only things to be concerned about are sharks and big jelly fish. Oh, and stonefish and a few other bottom dwellers."

"But it's not dangerous," Daine teased lightly, still staring at the water.

"Would you like to wet your feet?" Kaddar asked. "The water is lovely at night."

"What about the sharks and the bottom dwellers?" Daine asked.

Kaddar grinned, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "I'll protect you," he promised gallantly. "Come on."

He helped her removed her sandals and keep her balance, and stooped to pull off his own shoes and roll his trousers up.

"What about my dress?" Daine asked warily, realising the silk would be damaged by the water.

Kaddar shrugged. "It doesn't matter – you do not wear the dress again anyway."

"I don't?" Daine asked, fear stabbing at her. "Why not?"

"It is bad manners to appear in the same dinner attire twice, for a woman. There are other dresses in your wardrobe, and Uncle will provide you with more as you need them."

Daine froze. "This is ridiculous," she said bluntly. "He's holding me prisoner and buying me dresses that are worth more money than I'll have ever to spend in my life."

Kaddar hesitated as though uncertain how to respond. "It is how he does things," Kaddar said finally. "He has the wealth, and it is how he chooses to spend it."

"It's a waste," Daine said stubbornly. "What about people with no money? I think you'd be better off-"

She was cut off as Kaddar clapped a hand over her mouth and shook his head sharply, indicating for her to stop. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely. "You never know who is listening."

Daine was confused by the actions, but realised Kaddar was serious. She nodded her head, and he slowly pulled his hand away from her mouth.

"I've changed my mind," Kaddar said, his eyes unreadable in the dark. "Let's go for a swim instead."

"A swim?" Daine asked doubtfully. "But my arm… and I don't have a swim suit."

"We can skinny dip," Kaddar said firmly, already unbuttoning his shirt. "You'll find it a release, skinny dipping. It's only you and the ocean with no one to see or hear you. It's very enlightening to one's self."

Daine frowned at him, and he he jerked his head desperately at the water, obviously trying to tell her something.

"I think you're just trying to get me out of this dress," she said hesitantly. Why was she trusting this young man whom she'd barely met before today? Much less when he was the nephew of the man who held her captive.

Maybe because she'd seen something in his eye at dinner which made her think that perhaps he wasn't in agreement with what his uncle did. That maybe he was someone who could help her escape, or send word to people who could rescue them.

"Exactly," Kaddar agreed. "It removes all sorts of… restrictions."

Bugs in the clothes, Daine realised. He was scared they were being spied on. It felt rather stupid to think someone might want to spy on her – quite a bit like she was pretending to be in some dark, bad action movie where the bad guys had all sorts of gadgets and gizmos. Very James Bond, she thought.

"We don't want to ruin your jewellery," Kaddar said, removing his own nose ring and earrings. "Better take it off and leave it here; jewellery is always worth something."

She let him take out her earrings – with her broken collar bone she couldn't life her arm up herself to do it easily – and undo her necklace. He also pulled the zipper down on her dress from her, and allowed her to wriggle out of it.

Daine was standing half naked on the beach with a strange boy also half naked.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand, "the water is lovely."

He hadn't lied to her – the water was warm and smooth like silk. It played around her ankles and caressed her legs as she waded in deeper and deeper. Despite the calmness of the ocean and the way the water felt on her skin, it jostled her horribly and sent fingers of fire racing up her neck and through her arm.

"Dip your head under, and feel the water in your hair," Kaddar ordered, doing it himself as soon as he'd said it.

Daine obeyed, and dunked her head several times. Each time her collar bone burnt angrily in protest – wet hair was heavy, and moving around in the water wasn't helping to keep her arm still in the least.

"How's your arm?" Kaddar asked, one wet, warm hand reaching out and gripping her good arm firmly.

"I'll be fine," Daine gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as an unexpected stab of pain betrayed her words.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Daine," Kaddar whispered, "but I wouldn't put it past my Uncle to have listening devices on our clothing or jewellery somehow."

"Doesn't he trust you?" Daine asked curiously.

Kaddar gave a shout of laughter and shook his head. "Of course not," he said bluntly. "He only trusts himself. I've found some bugs sewn into the seams of some of my jackets, in my shoes and even in one of my nose rings. Of course, I can't let on that I know about the bugs," Kaddar said dryly.

"What about our undewear?" Daine asked, blushing as she realised the transparent state her strapless bra and panties would be when she got out of the water.

"They're in salt water now; I don't think they'd work very well," Kaddar grinned.

"So why are we in the ocean?" Daine asked, trying to keep her arm still.

"I need you to trust that everything will work out fine," Kaddar said cautiously. "I'm working with several people in Uncle's business to bring him down."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because what he's doing is wrong."

"You're only just older than me," Daine pointed out. "What could you possibly do?"

Kaddar smiled sadly. "Age has little meaning in reality, Daine. It's limitations on us are only there because we allow society to perceive younger people as being less capable."

"Are we going to be rescued?" Daine asked hopefully.

"I can't promise that straight away," Kaddar said, starting to drag her toward shore, "but I'm getting word to your friends now. I think you know Alanna?"

"I've met her," Daine agreed hesitantly.

"I'm sending word to her where you and Numair are, but we can't do anything right away or I'll be given away along with several other important people working for my Uncle. We don't have everything we need yet – if we act too soon some people will get away because there's no evidence against them. We want to get as many of them as we can."

"What about me and Numair?"

"Uncle plans to keep you both around for a while yet," Kaddar said. "Numair has a brilliant mind when it comes to designing; my Uncle wants him to help another scientist with weapon design and biochemical agents."

It sounded far-fetched to Daine – how could her Numair know about those sorts of things?

"You don't believe Numair is that good?" Kaddar asked, staring at her.

"I've lived with him for the last three weeks," Daine said. "He can barely boil water without it turning into a disaster."

Kaddar smiled. "The brilliant ones are always scatty and strange," he said wisely. "Lindhall is much the same. It is as if they have so much brilliance and thought in their mind, they don't have room for the usual things anymore."

"Who's Lindhall?"

"The scientist Numair will work with."

"Did you know Numair before?" Daine asked.

"I met him, but I was a lot younger and I barely remember him from those days. Come, let's get out, your arm must be hurting and the water will start to feel cool soon."

Kaddar was right – by the time they were back on shore Daine's teeth were chattering and her arm was hurting so badly she just wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

"Come on," Kaddar said gently, helping her back into her dress, "let's get you back inside and hunt down some more painkillers for you."

---

Daine hadn't thought it was possible for her to find the tropics cold, but by the time Kaddar got her back to the villa she was shivering as the damp silk stuck to her wet skin and her still wet hair dripped coldly down her back.

Stepping inside was like stepping into a fridge; the air conditioned air hit her with a blast and Daine was reminded of the snow and the rain from barely a few days before.

"Kaddar!" she heard someone say. "What were you doing?"

"We went for a swim," Kaddar said.

"In your clothes?" another voice – female – asked in disbelief.

"Of course not," Kaddar said. Even Daine, snuggled under Kaddar's arm and almost oblivious with pain, couldn't mistake the smug tone of his voice. He sounded very much like a young man who'd just gotten very lucky.

"Are you insane?" another voice screeched. Numair, Daine thought with hazy satisfaction. Numair wasn't happy about Kaddar's insinuation at all. "Look at her! She can barely walk under her own steam. You've exhausted her!"

"She's tired me out too!" Kaddar said defensively. Had Daine had the energy she would have blushed at the innuendo.

"You don't have a broken collar bone or ribs," Ozorne's voice said dryly. "Help Kaddar get the girl to bed, Lukas, and call for the doctor to give her some medication for the pain. Kaddar, I'm quite surprised by how quickly you moved."

"I could not resist Daine," she heard Kaddar say, and felt his arm tighten briefly around her waist. "Tomorrow night, I think we will go for a walk in the menagerie."

"So you can roll about like two dogs in the hay?" Numair asked bitterly.

"I don't imagine we'll be doing much rolling, Master Arram. After all, Daine's arm must still mend, and too much rolling won't help that at all," Kaddar said cheekily.

She was aware of another pair of arms helping to take her weight, and in the distance she could hear Numair spluttering. While Daine felt a strange sort of satisfaction with his obvious upset about her suggested activities, she couldn't help think that Numair was an impossibly hopeless actor. The idea was, she thought hazily, to convince Ozorne Numair didn't care about her. The way Numair was acting, she herself might be half tempted to think that he did actually care about her.

Then she remembered Varice, and realised Numair probably just felt responsible and angry at Kaddar for taking advantage, not necessarily because he was jealous.

It was just too confusing, Daine decided at length. The last thought she had was she hoped her bed was nice and warm, because she was very tired.

---

_For those of you who were curious about my work – I work as a scuba instructor. That means that usually on weekends I stay at our dive lodge teaching courses, and often during the week I'm there as well leading dives and organizing tour groups or acting as the skipper of our boat. There's no computer or internet at the lodge, and given that we're headed into our full season now I spend a lot of time there, or in our retail department. I absolutely adore my work and would totally recommend scuba diving to everyone. Really. It's the most rewarding thing I've ever done! Unfortunately, it's not conducive to writing or posting when we're so busy!_

_Still, this fic hasn't left my muse yet so I don't imagine I'll stop writing it!_


	23. Chapter 23

**twenty three**

Lindhall hadn't changed much in the years since Numair had last seen him. Still tall and weathered, his hair seemed a little greyer but still as long as ever.

"Quite a mess you've gotten yourself into, Arram," Lindhall said before opening his arms to Numair.

Lindhall, of all the people Numair had known, had probably warranted the most respect and affection from Numair than anyone else. Without commenting, Numair stepped into the offered hug and let his one time mentor offer him a brief comfort.

"I seem to have a talent for it," Numair said finally, pulling back out of Lindhall's arms. "Not much has changed, has it?"

Lindhall smiled ruefully. "Apart from the circumstances, it's good to see you again, Arram."

"Numair," Numair corrected. "I'm trying to keep as much about this mess as honest as I can."

"It's not easy, is it?" Lindhall said wistfully.

Numair studied the older man thoughtfully. "Could I ask you something?"

"If I can have the same right, you may," Lindhall agreed.

"Did you know what we were doing, or were you unaware?"

Lindhall smiled sadly. "I've been caught for a lot longer than yourself, Numair. I'm sorry I never warned you."

Numair sighed and closed his eyes, nodding. "Why?"

"That's two questions, Numair, and you only asked for one."

"You could ask me two," Numair suggested.

Lindhall smiled. "I don't need to ask you two. I only need to ask you one."

Numair sighed and shrugged. "Ask."

"The girl. What does she mean to you?"

Numair narrowed his eyes and stared at Lindhall. At one time he'd have trusted Lindhall implicitly; the knowledge that Lindhall had knowingly let him be involved with illegal and dangerous affairs stung bitterly and Numair wasn't certain whether he could still trust Lindhall.

"You don't need to answer," Lindhall said quietly. "I was just curious."

Numair sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. "It's not what Ozorne thinks it is," he said finally. "We're just… we're not like that."

Lindhall nodded. "I spoke with Kaddar. He said she's doing better this morning."

Numair hadn't been to check on Daine since she'd been carried to her bedroom the previous night. At first he'd told himself it was because he wanted to try and project the image of not caring about her the way Ozorne envisioned. Then he'd tried to tell himself that if Daine was well enough to be fooling around with Kaddar, she was well enough to look after herself anyway.

That had made Numair feel guilty, afterall, it was entirely his fault she'd been dragged into this mess in the first place.

The truth of the matter was, Numair wasn't certain that he _wanted_ to see Daine and hear the entire truth of what had conspired with Kaddar. He wasn't convinced that he wanted to know how handsome and appealing she found the young man who'd swept her off her feet on the beach.

The why of his reluctance to hear about Daine's potential new love life, even in their current predicament, wasn't something that Numair cared to consider in too much detail because he was scared of the answers.

So ultimately, he had simply gone to bed, risen this morning and asked to be taken to where Lindhall was.

Lindhall's domain turned out to be a large, open room with large glass windows overlooking a golden beach with turqoise water. The room itself was dustfree and clean, though the contents were aged and eclectic, collected through years of study and work.

Numair turned around and let his eyes absently wander over the room again, lost in thought. Carelessly he touched a weighted trinket, watching as the silver balls rhythmically knocked against each other, never gaining or losing the momentum.

"Here," Lindhall said suddenly, breaking Numair's chain of thought.

"What?" Numair asked, turning to look at Lindhall as though he had forgotten the older man's presence.

"I know you liked those," Lindhall said, pointing at the small balls still continuing their movements. "I have a few more you might like to see."

As he spoke, Lindhall passed a small piece of paper to Numair, etched with his familiar scrawl.

"New ones?" Numair asked, frowning in confusion as he looked at the paper.

"To my collection, yes, but most people wouldn't bother with them," Lindhall agreed, gesturing at the sheet.

"I'd like to see them," Numair said, completely lost as to the direction of the conversation.

"This way."

As Numair followed Lindhall, he opened the small note and read the few lines scribbled on it.

_Ozorne has bugged everything – audio and visual. Be very careful. We're trying to get you out._

"This one's a bit different," Lindhall said as he showed Numair a small toy resting on two narrow strips of wood. "It's a little wonky, but if you get the initial angle right it will keep spinning backward and forward all day. It's a bit of a joke really, because we've only ever had it going properly once. Most people wouldn't bother with it."

"Have you always done this?" Numair asked, trying desperately to figure out a way to talk to Lindhall in code.

"What do you mean?" Lindhall asked cautiously.

"Looked after things most people wouldn't bother with."

Lindhall looked completely confused. Obviously Numair totally sucked at this double talk when it wasn't dripping with sexual innuendo.

"I normally try to get rid of them," Lindhall said instead.

Numair blinked. "Huh?"

"There's no point in hanging onto things that don't work or don't belong in a collection."

"So why do you still have this one?" Numair asked, pointing at the shonky toy.

"I haven't had a chance to get it out yet," Lindhall said, shrugging.

Numair frowned. Lindhall was looking very intently at Numair, and Numair was fairly certain there was an actual point to Lindhall's comments rather than random statements about a lot of momentum toys. What on earth was he on about??

Lindhall sighed, rolling his eyes as though Numair had completely missed the point. Which, Numair realised dimly as Lindhall turned away from the toys and headed back to the center of the room, he probably had missed out on the main point. Damn.

"Kaddar works very closely with me," Lindhall said suddenly.

Involuntarily, Numair scowled at the mention of Kaddar's name. For a young boy who used to idolise Numair, it hadn't taken him long to move in on Numair's girl.

Whoa! Numair thought hastily, blinking rapidly. His girl? _His girl?_

Since when was Daine his girl?

She wasn't, he reminded himself sternly.

"What does he do?"

"He helps with logistics and the finer points of arrangements that Ozorne aren't normally involved in," Lindhall said.

"Such as?" Numair asked.

Again, Lindhall was looking at him as though there was something that he was missing.

"Transport of certain goods," Lindhall said slowly. "Plans, information transfer… just every day logistics that Ozorne doesn't have time for."

Yup, there was definitely a hidden message in what Lindhall was trying to say but Numair just could not figure it out. He'd always sucked at logic problems as a kid.

"So he's just an errand boy?" Numair said almost spitefully.

Lindhall eyed Numair with a surprising amount of understanding in his eyes. "Are you jealous of him, Numair?"

"Jealous?" Numair sputtered. "Why would I be jealous of him?"

Lindhall smiled and crossed his arms as he leant back against his work top. "You know, maybe you should go see how the girl is doing this morning before we get stuck into the work."

Numair stopped and frowned. Work. He was actually going to have to _do_ something to avoid getting both Daine and himself killed. And that something was doubtlessly involving weapons or biological agents or _something_ that Ozorne would sell on the black market for millions, rather than be for the defence forces as Numair had once been led to believe.

He didn't want to check on Daine, but he was even less inclined to get his hands soiled with illegal weapony again.

He bit his lip.

"Take your time with her," Lindhall said. "I understand if you have some reluctance to be involved with the work here."

"I can't believe you call it work," Numair said suddenly, staring at his old mentor.

Lindhall smiled emptily. "Not everyone has the freedom of choice, Numair. Go see Daine and put your mind at rest about Kaddar. I'm fairly certain that his intentions toward her are only honourable, because despite the way things may seem to you, he is a very honourable young man."

It was only as Numair was climbing the stairs toward the bedrooms that he realised exactly what Lindhall might have been trying to say about both his and Kaddar's involvement with Ozorne's operation.


	24. Chapter 24

**twenty four**

Daine had woken up in the early hours of the morning, in time to feel the last of the cool morning mists tickling her skin before the heat of the sun burnt them away. Though she had slept soundly, when she woke up the fire in her shoulder had rekindled and no matter which way she turned or how she tried to position herself, nothing would make the dull ache go away. Instead she had climbed out of bed and opened the large doors onto her private balcony, and watched the ocean lapping at the white sands of the beach – by day it was even more beautiful than she had ever imagined.

Kaddar had brought her fruit and yogurt for breakfast, telling her there was plenty more downstairs should she feel hungry, and if she didn't feel up to getting it herself to make use of the many servants in the mansion.

By mid morning there was no sign of Numair, and Daine had tired of waiting for him. No doubt, she thought bitterly as she gave up trying to brush her hair and just shoved a cap over her curls, he was all caught up with Varice and was still in bed.

Jealousy, Daine was learning, was a horrible dark feeling that drove every other thought from her mind. Even ideas on how to get away or save her and Numair were pushed into the background as she mulled over Numair and Varice. Every little touch between them which she had witnessed during dinner was somehow ingrained in her memory, though she wasn't even aware of trying to memorise them. Now they were replaying themselves over and over and over in her mind, taunting her with the familiarity Numair obviously shared with the blond haired, big breasted bimbo.

Amazingly enough, Daine hardly saw anyone as she moved through the homestead and let herself out the side doors Kaddar had led her through the previous night. She found her way along the manicured paths to the beach, taking time to enjoy the large, fragranced flowers of the tropics. Bright reds and pinks and yellows bloomed in the thick green foliage, and the birds were small, brightly coloured scraps of creatures, shrieking loudly as they foraged for food and scolded each other for various misdemeanors.

The wooden boardwalk gave way to the gleaming sands of the beach, and Daine stopped to kick off the sandals on her feet. Beneath her toes, the sand was cool and it stuck itself to her skin like a fine layer of castor sugar.

With the morning sun on her back and the champagne water swirling around her ankles, Daine forgot her worries and fears for the moment and savoured the beauty around her. The turquoise water was clearer than she ever dreamed water could be, and the sand so bright the sun was starting to dazzle her eyes. Squinting into the distant end of the beach, she realised that the boarwalk leading from the house to the beach continued along it.

Her curiousity stirred, and she started walking along the beach to where the familiar wooden track could be seen snaking around the sandline.

--

Whatever Daine's feeling for Ozorne might be, she had to admit that in a strange and twisted way, he had amazing taste and vision to be able to create such an amazing a place as this island. Then again, she mused, he had lots of money and money bought the best designers.

Still, there was something about the landscaping which whispered Ozorne's touch to her on the breeze.

The wooden boardwalk she had followed to the beach and then around meandered lazily through the jungle, visiting blue pools of fresh water, gardens of flowers that Daine suspected were entirely untouched by the human hand, and as it slowly climbed the hills behind the villa it afforded her glimpses of the ocean around the island.

She had no idea how long she'd been walking when the track finally started snaking back down the hills toward the villa, but the steady ache in her arm was beginning to worsen with the exercise, and she wished she thought to bring a drink with her. The next pool, she decided, would make a good watering hole. Even in the shade of the trees, the air was starting to heat up, as though steaming from the ground, and she felt herself longing for the coolness of the airconditioned villa.

Five minutes later she found herself in a zoo. It was enclosed in a tastefully constructed bamboo fence, more for show than function, and the wooden boardwalk turned to gravel paths winding between well crafted enclosures surrouned with glass panels as fences. She found all manners of creatures hiding from the heat by lying lazily in the shade – tigers, hyenas, lions, monkeys, marmosets… Some she couldn't see, hidden in their enclosures, but the neatly engraved plaques described the inhabitants of each enclosure.

Enraptured, Daine wandered from enclosure to enclosure, marvelling the creatures she could see, admiring their pelts and size and beauty.

A small stone bridge arched gracefully over a trickling stream, and beyond it was a large wire enclosure, painted green to blend in with the scenery. A large gate was hung with a sign "Please keep the gate shut" – Dained stepped inside the gate and pulled it closed behind her.

Inside it felt like she had stepped back into the jungle, only this time there were brightly coloured jewels screaming from the tree branchers, and flowers that seemed to fly through the sky. Birds. Hundreds and hundreds of birds like those she had seen earlier this morning. Parrots, finches, swallows, wrens, even flamingoes. Daine struggled to identify them, and she stood in awe, watching them. The birds, as though used to human presence, ignored her for the most part, twittering and singing and swooping around their cage without a care in the world.

One bird, a bright yellow parrot, alighted on her uninjured shoulder.

"Hello, beautiful," Daine said softly, twisting her neck to try and look at him. The brilliance of his colours was amazing, from a deep yellow to a bold, velvety orange around his face. "You're a brave boy, aren't you?" she crooned, wishing her uninjured shoulder wouldn't hamper her arm movements and allow her to offer her hand as a perch to the beautiful creature.

"You are fortunate," a voice said from the shadows of the trees, startling Daine. The bird unperturbed by her sudden twitch of surprise, buried his head in the hair behind her ear and nibbled at the skin of her neck, raising goosebumps on Daine's flesh.

"Why's that?" Daine asked, licking her suddenly dry lips and watching as Ozorne moved toward her.

"That one is a fledgling," Ozorne explained. "That he alighted on your shoulder first, he is now loyal to you." Though he smiled, Daine thought there was a bitter ugliness in his eyes. Ozorne wasn't happy that the bird had chosen her.

"Oh," she said, unsure of what else to say. "What type of bird is he?"

"Sun Conure," Ozorne said abruptly. "Their colours are unique."

The small parrot chirped in agreement and shuffled down Daine's arm – she held her arm out straight and he wandered along it until he was resting on her fingers. She brought him toward her face and studied him carefully, awed by the intelligence in his bright eyes.

"You like animals," Ozorne said. "I watched you walk through the menagerie."

"They are beautiful," Daine agreed, keeping her eyes on the bird.

"They do not betray once they have chosen," Ozorne said baldly. "Not like humans."

"What exactly did Numair do?" Daine blurted out, then bit on her tongue to try and keep silent.

"Betrayed my trust and took advantage of my generosity," Ozorne said simply, eyeing her. "He will betray your trust too, if he hasn't yet."

"How do you mean?"

Ozorne smiled crookedly. "Do not ever believe that he loves you. He is capable of loving no one but himself."

Daine opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Numair didn't love her, she knew that, so why argue the point?

Ozorne reached out a hand. "May I have the bird?"

She had no real reason to not offer him the creature, and with a little encouraging wriggle of her fingers, the bird hopped onto Ozorne's proffered hand.

"What are you doing?" she screeched as Ozorne deftly trapped the bird in one hand and pulled out a pair of scissors. "Don't hurt him!"

"I would not hurt them," Ozorne said sharply. "He is young and needs teaching."

With a practiced movement Ozorne used the scissors to carefully clip the bright feathers of one wing until they were short and stubby. He held the bird back out to Daine, and let him go on her fingers.

The bird, not happy with the treatment scolded and chattered angrily at Ozorne as he clumsily tucked his uneven wing away, and then scuttled up Daine's arm to bury his head beneath her curls again. Daine nuzzled him gently with her cheek, and turned angrily to Ozorne. "What did you do that for?"

"A gift for you," Ozorne said, smiling at her. "Now he cannot fly away when you take him with you. Once he learns to stay with you, his wings can grow back and then he will not get lost. It does not hurt them to cut the feathers."

What if he wants to fly away though, Daine thought. It wasn't right to keep wild animals against their will.

"Come, it is time for the midday meal," Ozorne ordered. "Bring him too," he added. "I will get the servants to bring you an aviary for him."

Daine followed silently behind Ozorne as they walked back to the villa, the small bird still perched on her shoulder. Should she thank him, she wondered?

She had seen the look in his eye when the bird sat on her shoulder. No doubt, if she returned the bird Ozorne would remove it one way or the other, because Ozorne hadn't been truthful with her. He'd said that animals didn't betray once they had chosen, and yet, he clearly thought the bird of all things had betrayed him by choosing to sit on Daine's shoulder.

Daine reached up awkwardly with her good hand and patted the little creature on her shoulder. He _was_ beautiful. What should she call him?

_So, after years of nonexistence (in which time I fell in love and have had my own fairy tale), I've finally felt the itch to write again, and given in to it. _

_Thank you to everyone for the kind words of encouragement, praise and requests for me to finish this story - there is a plan and resolution for this to happen; we've almost reached the end of this journey and I thank you all for your company. _


	25. Chapter 25

**twenty five**

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Numair roared.

"I only went for a walk!" Daine yelled back.

"WITH OZORNE!"

"I didn't-"

"ARE YOU CRAZY?"

"You already said that, Numair!" Daine snapped. "Stop yelling, you're scaring Kit."

Numair blinked, startled out of his range by the last statement. "I'm what?"

"Scaring Kit," Daine repeated, fidgeting about in her hair with her hand.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he demanded.

A second later she produced a ruffle bundle of bright gold feathers from the tangles of her hair, coupled with a pair of bright eyes that stared at him with a keen intelligence. "Kit," Daine repeated. "You're scaring her."

"That's a bird," Numair said.

"I know," Daine agreed pleasantly.

"Why have you got a bird? And why have you called a bird after a cat?"

Dained shrugged. "The name fits. Ozorne gave her to me."

Numair felt cold fingers licking in his veins. "He gave you a bird?"

Daine nodded, placing the bird back on her shoulder before wandering into the wardrobe. "I found this zoo… he called it a menagerie." Daine's voice floated to him from the depths of the wardrobe. "There's a huge avairy in there, and I went in. Kit sat on my shoulder, and Ozorne gave her to me."

"He's trying to win you over," Numair warned.

"No, I don't think so," Daine returned. "He was upset that she sat on my shoulder in the first place, and I think it was the easy way to get rid of her."

"You could be right," Numair agreed, frowning to himself. "He is posessive of his animals, particularly the birds. If one of them went to you like that, I could see him taking it as a threat of ownership."

"That's just silly," Daine said, emerging from the wardrobe dressed in fresh clothing – a flowery skirt and a light blouse, the bird still sitting on her shoulder.

"What possessed you to go for a walk with him anyway?" Numair asked, scowling.

"I didn't," Daine said, her tone annoyed. "I went for a walk by myself, and he found in me in the aviary."

"You shouldn't go walking by yourself," Numair said absently.

"Well, it's hard to do it with someone if there isn't anyone around," Daine returned acidly.

His conscience prickling with guilt at leaving her alone all morning without even going to see how she was, Numair spoke without thinking. "I'm sure Kaddar would have gone with you. Afterall, last night you were keen to visit the menagerie with him."

Daine's cheeks burnt as he stared at her, with anger or embarrassment, Numair couldn't tell which. "Seeing as you're so busy with Varice, I'll make sure I ask Kaddar next time."

Before he could response she had stormed out of the room, the bird on her shoulder scolding Numair as they disappeared out of the doorway.

Well done, Numair, he thought to himself. A great way to fix things between the two of you.

--

Numair tried not to watch as Daine giggled with Kaddar in the corner. Since their argument three days prior, Daine had barely said one word to him, and Numair was too proud to apologise.

A well manicured finger traced its way from his knee upwards, and he caught it before he ventured past midthigh, turning to force a smile at Varice. "What are you doing?" he asked her, lacing his fingers through hers to prevent any more wandering.

Varice pouted prettily, though she curled her fingers through his willingly enough. "Getting bored babysitting," she said airily. "Let's go take a walk," she suggested, "you never know what might happen."

Given the way she was currently thrusting her chest out to draw attention to the firm curves of her breasts, Numair was fairly certain he knew what she was hoping would happen. At first it had confused him when her obvious advances had done nothing but send him running with his tail between his legs – once upon a time he would have had no objections to what Varice was suggesting. And yet, everytime he looked at Varice, all he could see was Daine. All he wanted to see was Daine.

"As tempting as that is," he said, running a hand down her waist and barely grazing the sides of her breasts, "I can't."

She smiled self-depracatingly. "Let me guess, Lindhall?"

Numair smiled with apology. "You know why I'm here, Varice."

"That never stopped you before," she pouted.

"I wasn't held hostage before," he pointed out.

She sighed and sat back, studying him with her dark eyes. Varice was always too smart for her own good. "You weren't really in love before either," she said softly.

The comment seemed to shatter things between them, and for the first time since he had seen her again, Numair really looked at Varice. Despite the smiles and the beauty and the artful makeup, Varice was harder than she had been. Less softness and warmth, and more ice. Steel.

"You weren't either," he said quietly.

She stood up abruptly, turning away from him. He caught her arm, and turning her toward him. To his surprise, her eyes were sparkling – to anyone else it might just be the candlight on the dinner table, but to him, he recognised the unshed tears. "Varice?"

"You never were good at the everyday, real things," she whispered.

When she pulled her arm from his grasp, he let go. Silently, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, she walked out of the room.

In the corner, Kaddar and Daine were still whispering, heads close together in their own little world.

--

Daine petted Kit, lovely the way her feathered little body cuddled in close to her cheek. Since Ozorne had given her the Sun Conure, Daine hadn't parted from the bird except to go to sleep. She hid her face against Kit's feathers, trying hard to hide the smug smirk from her face as Kaddar turned to her again.

"I think they're fighting," he whispered, glancing over at where Numair sat by himself at the dining table.

"So?" Daine asked, trying and failing miserably to keep the iciness out of her voice.

Kaddar frowned as he looked at her. "Numair and Varice were together a long time ago, Daine."

"So?" Daine asked again, knowing full well she sounded childish and not really caring.

Kaddar sighed, and smiled at her, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"Don't shake your head at me like that, Kaddar," she told him crossly.

Numair stood up and left the room; Daine longed to go after him and asked what had happened, but she wouldn't.

"Varice is not a bad person," Kaddar said.

"I don't care about Varice," Daine said cruelly. "I don't care about Numair either," she added defiantly.

"Sometimes I forget you are still so young," Kaddar said patronisingly.

"Says you mister three years older than me," Daine said angrily.

"However, you're certainly acting your age tonight," Kaddar continued.

"And you're being an arrogant know-it-all," Daine snapped, rising swiftly to her feet and storming through the french doors out into the garden. The thick, heady scents were starting to become familiar, and Daine could tell the scents of the mangoes and the coconuts from the hibiscus and the sugar cane now. She could also recognise the tangy brine of the ocean, and the whisper of the waves was as familiar as the breeze in the trees back at home.

"I did not mean to fight with you," Kaddar said, following her toward the still warm sand of the beach.

"I want to go home, Kaddar," Daine said softly. "I want to leave this place and go back. I miss Cloud and Onua and my mother."

He gathered her gently in his arms, careful of her still painful shoulder. "I know," he whispered. His lips brushed against her ear, and so softly, that she could barely hear it, "not long now."

She pulled away from him. "I want to go for a swim."

He smiled at her, and together they removed their clothes again. The water was like silk against her skin. As she carefully sank into the water so that it covered all of her, she kept one hand raised out of the water so that Kit would not get wet. As it was, the bird chirped and chattered grumpily; it was well past her bedtime. "Soon, Kit," Daine promised as she wiped the water from her eyes. "You can go to bed soon."

Ruffling her feathers in a huff, Kit chirped her agreement.

"How long?" Daine asked, tired of hidden meanings and veiled talk.

"When Numair and Lindhall finish their project, a meeting of buyers and brokers will take place. Then it will be over."

"How long until they finish it?" Daine persisted.

Kaddar shrugged. "Who knows with them. They are brilliant, but time does not carry the same meaning to them."

Daine scowled. "I'll tell Numair and-"

"No," Kaddar interrupted. "Do not tell Numair."

Daine blinked and stared at him surprise. "Why not?"

"He knows Lindhall and I are working against my uncle, but he does not understand the importance of what he is doing. If he suddenly is motivated and appears eager to work on the project and finish it, my uncle will grow suspicious. He is reluctant in his work, and that is to be expected. If he changed now, it could damage everything we have worked for."

Daine nodded in understanding – as she had already worked out, Numair was a terrible actor. "Okay," she agreed. "Tell me if I have to do anything."

Kaddar smiled. "I think you need to take your bird to bed," he said, smiling. "Tomorrow will bring freedom that much closer."

Daine looked at Kit perched on her damp shoulder and smiled; the little conure had her head tucked under a wing and was trying to sleep.

"Kaddar?" Daine asked before they got out.

"Yes?"

"What about Varice?"

"What do you mean?"

"What will happen to her?"

Kaddar shrugged, and was silent for a time. "I do not know," he said finally. "Lindhall and I do not know her feelings; she is too close to my uncle too much of a liability to attempt involving her. What happens to her I suppose depends on what she has done and the eyes of the law."

Daine nodded in understanding, and got out of the water.

"What about you?" she asked as they pulled their clothes on over their wet bodies.

Kaddar smiled and shrugged. "All actions are judged," he said finally, before turning and walking up the path ahead of Daine.

She had never really stopped to think that he might have done things that counted against him. What was he capable of, she wondered, and what had he done?

--

Numair wished with everything inside him that Daine's rooms didn't have such an uninterrupted view of the beach. Even though the moon was waning, there was still more than enough light reflected off the still waters for him to make the couple out on the beach.

He'd gone to Daine's rooms after leaving the dining room, not wanting to talk to her in front of Kaddar. He planned to wait there until she retired for the night, and then talk to her. Explain how things really were with Varice, and that he was sorry for leading her to believe otherwise.

He also wanted to know exactly what she was doing with Kaddar.

Daine, he knew, kept the doors on her balcony open permanently, and he found the gentle breeze blowing in from the ocean to be tempting – he needed some fresh air after his talk with Varice. Stepping out on the balcony, he heard the gentle whisper of voices talking from the beach, and he saw Daine go quite willingly into Kaddar's arms. Seconds later they pulled away from each other and started undressing.

His face burning – anger, humiliation, pain – Numair turned from the balcony and moved back inside, walking blindly down the halls.

There was no answer on Varice's door when he knocked. He pushed it open and peered inside to see if she was avoiding him. There was no sign of her ever having set foot in the room – no makeup, no clothes, no shoes, not even a magazine by the side of the bed.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"

He turned to the servant. "Where is Varice's rooms?" he asked.

The servant looked at him oddly. "My lady does not have her own rooms," he said awkwardly. "She and Lord Ozorne…" The man didn't finish the sentence.

"Thank you," Numair whispered. The servant left him.

Numair sank onto the unused bed, rested his head in his hands, and cried.


	26. Chapter 26

_**--**_

_Hi everyone, _

_Thank you for all the reviews; it's been awesome knowing that you're all excited to have more of this fic! Because I promise to finish it shortly and have it all posted, here's the next chapter!!_

_**Please note, there is violence in this chapter.**_

_**--**_

**twenty six**

Daine always woke early, and this morning she felt light as the sunlight dancing through the windows. Even her shoulder didn't seem to pain her as much.

"Soon," she whispered to Kit as she let her out of the cage, "soon."

The parrot chirped and sang happily, leaping off Daine's shoulder and flying drunkenly toward the bed where she toppled into the pillows. Daine giggled, petting the bird who ran across the covers, a regular game in the mornings.

"Come on," Daine said, still giggling as she held out her hand.

A big leap and a flutter of broken feathers, and Kit was happily perched on Daine's fingers. Daine transferred the bird to her usual perch and set about getting ready for the day ahead, the flame of excited hope still burning in her chest.

She knew Kaddar had told her not to tell Numair of the plans, but Daine needed to see him. To reassure him. This silent distance between the two of them was hurting, and even if Numair didn't love her, she was still her friend and he looked like he needed a friend last night when Varice left him.

Humming to herself, Daine headed via the kitchens towards the rooms she knew were Lindhall and Numair's worklabs. Her hand bearing a plate of fruit selections as a peace offering, she knocked tentatively on the door.

"Come in," a voice called.

Daine pushed the door open and peered inside the cluttered room. A tall man with long grey hair stood at a bench, looking at her curiously. "You must be Daine," he said when she stepped inside. "I'm Lindhall."

Daine nodded mutely, staring at him. He almost reminded her of a wizard, she thought, stifling a giggle. "Is Numair here?"

Lindhall shook his head, and moved over to another bench with several stools around it. "Have a seat," he invited. "Numair normally arrives soon."

"Would you like some fruit?" Daine asked shyly, offering him the plate.

Lindhall smiled his thanks and helped himself to a piece of pawpaw, taking a seat opposite her. "I see Ozorne gave you a present," he said as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

Daine reflexively put her hand up for Kit to hop onto. "Yes," she said, looking at him.

"They're beautiful birds, aren't they?" Lindhall said easily, reaching out his hand. Kit hesitated a few minutes before hopping over to his fingers. He fed her a piece of grape, and she chattered her thanks at him. "Incredibly loyal, the conures. They also learn to talk fairly quickly, so you better watch your language unless you want a potty-mouthed parrot," he smiled.

Daine smiled at him too, relaxing. "What are all these things?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Have a go," Lindhall said, nodding towards the strange object closest to Daine. It had several balls suspended between two bars.

She reached out and closed her fingers over one of the balls, pulled it out and let it go. To her delight it swung back against the other balls which all seemed to keep perfectly still, but the ball on the far end swung out and back in, causing the original ball to swing out and in again. Back and forth they went, as regular as clockwork.

"Numair loves those too," Lindhall said, smiling. "They use momentum and the conept of energy transfer to work, but physics aside, they are the things magic is made out of."

"Like starlight," Daine said softly.

"Pardon?" Lindhall asked.

Daine blushed. "Nothing," she said.

They fell into silence, eating fruit and sharing it with Kit who had decided the fruit plate should be hers.

Daine had just opened her mouth to ask Lindhall a question, when the door opened and Numair wandered in.

"Morning," Lindhall said, looking up at him, and then frowned. "You look terrible, Numair."

Daine looked up as Numair caught sight of her. The blood drained from his pale face and he hesitated for a minute.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He blinked and looked away from her. "Fine," he said curtly. "What are you doing here?"

"Numair!" Lindhall admonished, shocked at Numair's rudeness.

"I wanted to talk to you," Daine said quietly, stinging at his attitude.

"Kaddar a bit boring for you now?" he sneered. "Moving onto the next bit of meat on the island?"

"That's enough, Numair!" Lindhall said sharply.

They were silent for several minutes, Numair refusing to look at Daine. She looked at him though, nothing the dark circles under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks. The thing that told her something was dreadfully wrong was Numair's hair – unbrushed, unwashed and unstyled. If Numair wasn't worrying about his hair, something was very, very wrong.

Obviously the fight with Varice had been fairly serious.

Gathering up the dirty plate, Daine called Kit back to her fingers and replaced the bird on her shoulders. "It was nice meeting you, Lindhall," she said politely.

"You don't have to leave, Daine," Lindhall said kindly.

"Thank you," she said, smiling wanly, "but I'll just get in the way if I stay."

As she shut the door behind her, she could hear Lindhall asking Numair what was wrong.

--

The hope and excitement that had been kindled in Daine the last time she and Kaddar had gone swimming was slowly starting to fade. Three weeks had passed, in which time Numair had barely spoken three words to her.

In fact, Daine doubted he'd spoken to anyone except Lindhall lately. He skulked around, ragged and unkept, pale and sick looking, making sure he left as quickly as he could as soon as Daine entered a room.

Varice had almost vanished from sight – she only made brief appearances at dinner, looking as beautiful and distant as ever. Kaddar too, had faded from sight, no doubt being kept busy by his uncle who seemed to also be spending less time at the Villa. There was a helicoptor regularly taking him away for a few days at a time, often times Kaddar went with him. When they returned, things got worse. Obviously Lindhall and Numair weren't making progress quickly enough, and the pressure was starting to build. Ozorne was unreasonable, rude and irrational, growing more and more unpredictable in his rages.

Daine, in turn, found herself spending more and more time exploring around the island, in particular, the menagerie. The keepers were allowing her to help tend the animals with feeding and watering, and some of the friendlier ones were letting her play with some of the tamer animals like the little monkeys she often heard calling from her room.

Daine was in the menagerie one morning when she heard Ozorne arrive. In the middle of feeding the monkeys with Marie, they glanced at each other and Marie jerked her head toward the bushes, indicating that Daine should keep out of sight. While Ozorne hadn't said anything, it was likely he wouldn't approve of Daine getting close to the staff or working with the animals. Thankfully, he passed the monkey pen and went to his birds.

"You should go," Marie whispered to Daine.

"Why?"

"Some of the birds are sick," she replied.

"Why should I go?"

"You do not want to be here," Marie insisted, nudging Daine toward the gate. Instead of listening, Daine dropped back further into the bushes. The back of the monkey pen bordered on to the aviary, and Daine couldn't help herself.

Marie touched her on the arm, her eyes fearful as she tried to get Daine to go.

"What's going to happen?" Daine whispered.

"Please," Marie whispered, trying not to cry. "Don't stay for this."

Carlos was the keeper responsible for the birds. The funny little old man was short and stumpy, missing more teeth than he had. Though his english was terrible, Daine was already fond of him and his ready smile. The birds too, adored him, always flocking around him eagerly when he entered their aviary, looking for the treats in his pockets.

Today the birds were flocking, but they were shrieking angrily, a colourful storm of screams and feathers. On the ground, between Carlos and Ozorne lay two colourful little bodies, their feathers fluffed and lifeless.

Ozorne was talking rapidly in Spanish to Carlos, who argued back defiantly.

Marie tugged on Daine's arm again; Daine shook her off.

Suddenly Ozorne yelled, waving his arms around frantically.

Carlos replied, his words incomprehensible to Daine.

Ozorne stared at him coldly, pulled a pistol from his pocket, and shot the old man. A bright fountain of red exploded around the aviary and the birds screamed and screamed and screamed. Ozorne holstered his gun again and threw a handful of seed over Carlos' body. The birds swarmed and flocked over their dead keeper. Ozorne watched for a few minutes, then turned and walked out of the aviary.

Next to Daine, Marie was sobbing quietly into her hands.


	27. Chapter 27

_Once again, thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews! They really do make me enjoy writing this story, and they prompt to write the next bits quickly to keep you all happy!_

_We are so close to the end now!_

_--_

**twenty seven**

Her feet pounding on the wooden path, Daine ran and ran and ran until she came to the ocean and even then she ran across the powered sand and sank into the waters as they were turned to fire red and gold and orange by the dying sunlight. Kit, on her shoulder, wing feathers fully regrown, shrieked at the insult of the salt water and flew into the trees.

Running until she could no longer fight the resistance of the water, Daine sank into it and let it surround her, running gentle fingers through her hair and washing the scattered flecks of blood from her cheeks.

And then she was crying, great hacking sobs that tore painfully on her newly knitted ribs and shoulder, crying and choking and seeing the white suit splattered with blood while around him the birds swarmed and flocked and ate their seed.

Carlos lying dead on the ground.

She cried until the sun disseappered and the water turned dark, carressing her with the bioluminescence Kaddar had pointed out on that first night so long ago. How naïve she had been; how lulled into a false sense of safety and security.

Ozorne was a killer. This whole island, this whole villa and the luxury and the beauty was all a charade. A pretense. An illusion of civility masking the monsters hiding beneath.

Daine no longer cared about the brokeness between her and Numair. Varice and Kaddar and all the things she thought mattered faded into the night, swallowed by the ocean. All that mattered was getting out. Getting away. Saving Numair and leaving this place of smiling faces and firing guns.

Gathering herself, Daine walked out of the water, her shoes squelching and her clothes gathering sand like a sponge. Kit flew from the trees and settled herself on Daine's shoulder again, still chittering angrily about the unexpected swim Daine had treated her too.

The walk back to the villa was as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes; instead of seeing the beautifully manicured garden and the amazing riches, she saw only blood money. Carlos lying dead on the floor. Numair walking like a pale ghost.

She paused on the edge of the warm pool of light cause through the graceful glass doors of the dining room. Inside, gathered around the table, was the circus of actors she had been living with for the last month.

Varice, dressed in a sapphire blue robe with her beautifully styled hair and painted face.

Ozorne, a new white suit freshly laundered and free of the red stains of murder.

Kaddar, neat and tidy, quiet and still.

Lindhall was there in his tweed suit, a tight smile on his face.

Numair, lanky and unkempt, staring at his plate, hardly moving.

The others Daine still didn't know, all talking and milling and cheering, the food spread before them in a beautiful feast of lush vegetables and meats with shining silverware and fine bone china plates.

Daine wondered if Carlos was still lying in the aviary.

She watched them for a few minutes; Ozorne seemed remarkably pleased about something, his face split in a beaming smile that hid the monster in his eyes.

Daine stepped into the light and into the room, her shoes squelching on the tiles and her appearance killing the conversation.

"Where have you been?" Ozorne demanded, looking angry now. "You are late and you look terrible. You have no manners, Daine."

Daine laughed at him. A crazy, hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat and bursting to the surface.

"You," she said, once she controlled her laughter. "You are lecturing me about manners?" she demanded incredulously, swaying on her feet.

"Daine, my dear, have you been _drinking?_" Varice asked, her polished voice breaking the icy silence that had fallen at Daine's words.

"No, Varice my dear, I haven't," Daine said. "I've been swimming."

Swimming in a blood red ocean, just like the blood pooling around Carlos.

"In your clothes?" Ozorne said scathingly.

"Only way to get the blood out of them," Daine blurted out, and then froze.

"What blood?" Numair asked sharply, staring at her.

"I cut myself," Daine mumbled, her sudden courage and bravery fleeing, leaving her shivering and wet and numb. They were all staring at her, and all she could see was Carlos lying dead on the floor.

They knew, she realised dimly, as the world started fading out. They all knew he was a murderer. They would have heard the shot. Would have known what had happened. And here they all were, having a dinner party.

Daine started laughing again. She laughed and laughed and laughed until the world turned dark and spun and all she could see was Carlos drowning in an ocean of blood.

--

Numair watched as Daine, wet and ragged and obviously scared out of her mind about something, crumpled to the floor in a tiny little bundle. For a second, nobody moved, and then he and Kaddar stood to their feet at the same time.

"Sit," Ozorne ordered.

For a second it looked like Kaddar was about to object as well, but then with a quick look at each other, both Numair and Kaddar resumed their seats.

The silence remained, and the girl stayed slumped on the ground, the echo of her hysterical laughter still bouncing around the room.

"Take her," Ozorne ordered to the guard seated at the end of the table.

Silently the man rose to his feet, picked Daine up, and carried her from the room. Every cell of Numair's body screamed to follow her, to make sure he looked after her, to make sure she was okay.

He didn't move.

"Your friend is not well," Ozorne said blandly, popping an olive into his mouth and taking a sip of his wine. "I am tiring of her presence." He looked around and saw no one else was eating. "Well?" he said testily, "is the food not good?"

Numair picked up his knife and fork and cut a piece of the finely cooked steak up and put it in his mouth. It felt like cardboard, and he chewed mechanically.

"When will we have a demonstration?" Josef asked.

Numair had been introduced to Josef during the pre-dinner drinks. His smooth voice and cultured appearance did not hide the wildness in his eyes or the darkness in his soul. Josef was as much a killer as Ozorne.

Ozorne turned to Numair and Lindhall. "Well?" he demanded. "You have been promising me the completion, and yet, it has been almost a year, Lindhall."

"We are completing the final tests now, Ozorne," Lindhall said, dabbing at his mouth.

"You are testing and you did not tell me?" Ozorne demanded angrily.

"We didn't want to get your hopes up, and then have the tests fail, Ozorne," Lindhall said smoothly. "We would rather present you with a complete product that works so you can have confidence in it."

Ozorne nodded, accepting the story. "You have always been perceptive like that, Lindhall," he agreed. "You shall show us the testing tonight," he ordered.

Numair felt his insides freeze up. The testing was already completed; both he and Lindhall knew the weapon worked. They had been dragging their feet because… well… Numair had because he knew once the work was done there was no more use for himself, and more importantly, Daine. That only meant one thing in Ozorne's _modes operandi_. Lindhall had been dragging his feet too, and Numair could only assume it was for the same reasons; they hadn't really been talking much lately, let alone discussing dangerous things like toying with Ozorne's patience.

And he still hadn't managed to save Daine.

--

The weapon was a nightmare. The kind of thing science fiction and horror movies excelled at, because it was so dark and evil it was almost unimaginable.

And yet, here it was, in front of them. Biological warfare at it's most terryfing – a reality.

The small vial on display to the small audience contained an opaque liquid, barely a thimbleful. And yet, that thimbleful was enough to kill everyone on this island, possibly even everyone on the planet.

"You do have a cure?" Ozorne asked, his voice more hushed than Numair had ever heard it before.

"Of course we do," Lindhall said, and Numair knew him well enough to detect the almost undetectable scorn. "The nanites are unique, Ozorne. Biological and technological at the same time; the software in them allows us to program a specific genetic target into them. You could release them in an aerosol form in a city full of people, and they would only target those people who possess a specific gene marker, so you can be as specific as you like or as general as you like."

"What about a backdoor?" asked a Josef. "All biological agents have the potential of mutations."

"The software should prevent that," Lindhall explained. "However, there is a killswitch in the event of a malfunction and an epidemic breaking loose. These organisms are too much technology to survive without that component, and by shutting it down we render the organisms useless."

There was silence in the room as everyone considered the small, innocuous looking vial.

"I did not think this type of technology was possible," Josef said finally. "I knew the Americans had plans and there were whispers of nanites, but to actually be presented… The concept is phenomenal."

"I think a demonstration is in order," Ozorne said, clapping his hands in excitement. "What do you think, Josef?"

Josef smiled, and Numair imagined he could almost see blood dripping from his teeth.

"Certainly, Ozorne. "But I think we need to test these machines. Use them as we will be expected to use them, to make sure there are no flaws."

"What are you saying, Josef?" Ozorne demanded.

Josef held his hands up innocently. "I do not want to buy these from you, only to find that they are not as specific or safe as your workers have led us to believe. Therefore, I would like to see them administer a dose the way we would adminster it, and make sure there is no unneccessary risk for my people."

Oh God, Numair thought. Josef wanted to let things loose already.

--

It took little more than two hours to set up the requested demonstration. Five snowy white rabbits, all genetically related through a common parent, were placed in a portable hutch on the lawn in front of Ozorne's villa.

Everyone gathered on the topmost balcony, looking out over the rabbits. From the genetic information already on file, Lindhall had programmed the nanites with their selected target, a rabbit picked out and marked by Josef with a red collar.The rabbits, having been bred and reared in labs, seemed uncertain and confused about the outdoors and the grass tickling their feet through the wires of the hutch. Numair watched them quivering in the corner of their hutch; he imagined their large eyes looking around fearfully.

"We are ready," Lindhall said finally, looking up from his laptop. "The nanites have a wireless communications which allows me to program them. Once the nanites have been released it will take about ten minutes until they have a visual effect."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ozorne asked snappily.

His hands shaking, Numair held up the small metal cylinder in which the programmed nanites were contained. In a second, he would release them in an aerosol form, and ten minutes after that the rabbit (and god help them all, the rabbit only) would start convulsing and then die.

"Wait," Josef said. "May I?"

Numair nodded dumbly and passed him the container; selfish as he was, the last thing Numair wanted to do was release those nanites. What if something went wrong? What if they're tests and precautions didn't work, and those nanites got out? What if he destroyed the world. Rather let Josef bear that burder, though somehow Numair suspect Josef would revel in being a destroyer of worlds. Provided, of course, they weren't destroyed in the process.

Numair stifled a giggle and stood back, watching Josef.

It was almost anticlimatic; there was a hiss and a small puff of gass, and then nothing.

Barely two minutes had passed, when Ozorne spoke. "I don't see anything happening," he grumbled.

"It takes on average ten minutes for the nanites to infiltrate the DNA and started the process of producing the toxins. Shortly thereafter, the poisoning starts to kill the test subject," Lindhall said clinically. "Remember, Ozorne, this isn't a lab and it might take a little longer for the nanites to reach the rabbit."

"What if they don't reach it?" Josef asked. "What gauruntee is there that a target will be reached?"

"If it's a specific target, like this, it is vital to be in close proximity. Unless the actual DNA is found, these nanites cannot replicate and so they cannot spread from person to person contact; they will stay in stasis. Only once they are in the right DNA can they replicate and pass on the effects to other DNA matching their programming."

"So for a large, nonspecific target it doesn't matter where you release the nanites, but for a specific target you _have_ to be close."

Josef nodded. "For singular hits then it will still require agent penetration."

Lindhall nodded.

Ten minues passed, and still the rabbits showed no sign of the nanite effects.

Ozorne turned to Numair and Lindhall, his face red with anger. "There is nothing!" he yelled, "nothing! You have been deceiving me!"

"No, Ozorne," Lindhall said calmly, though Numair could see his hands shaking on the laptop, "wait. There is breeze and distance tonight, it will take a little longer."

"You said ten minutes!" Ozorne raged, "you have made me look a fool in front of Josef!"

"The only one making you look like a fool, Ozorne, is yourself." Numair wasn't sure what possessed him to open his mouth, but the words popped out before he could stop it. Once the words were spoken, though, they hung in the air between them, a great big glittering taunt at Ozorne, and Numair felt strangely at peace with himself.

"You dare insult me," Ozorne hissed, his face contorted with rage. "I, who took you in and treated you as family, and yet, you threw your gratitude in my face. I, who looked after you-"

"You, who took a young girl hostage. You, who has murdered countless people. You, who think everyone should worship the ground you walk upon. You, Ozorne, who would be nothing if you did not have money."

Ozorne slapped him so hard he staggered backwards, his fall only stopped by the ornately decorated stone railings around the balcony.

"I will not have you speak that way to me," Ozorne stated. "I see now that are useless, Numair. Good only for flashy trinkets and empty talk of philosphy and things which do not count for anything in reality. You are a waste of space, you, and the beggar girl you are so in love with."

Rage in flared in Numair's chest. "You wouldn't even understand love, Ozorne!" Numair yelled.

"I do not need love," Ozorne said coldly. "And I do not need either of you."

Numair hadn't even seen him draw the handgun, and took him a split second after the crack of the bullet leaving the chamber rent through the air and a fireball of pain blossomed in his chest to work out that he'd been shot.

And then he was flying, flying through the air, staring at the stars studded in the cold velvet sky while the moon once again sailed over the seas and pain exploded in him, consuming him, and then there was nothing.

--

_Don't hate me!_

_(cue lots of evil cackling from yours truly)_

_Sil_


	28. Chapter 28

**twenty eight**

Daine woke up slowly and reluctantly, as though the heavy grey fog of oblivion seemed more enticing than facing the hardness of reality. Why didn't she want to wake up, she wondered dreamily, safe and warm in her caccoon.

Because waking up meant seeing Carlos die again. Meant knowing that Carlos' murderer was walking around pretending to be a civilised gentlemen, and there was nothing she could do.

Daine opened her eyes and stared at the snowy white ceiling above her.

"What happened, Daine?" a voice whispered quietly next to her.

Daine whipped her head around and looked at Kaddar. His eyes were so tired, she thought. What had being with Ozorne every day of his life done to his soul?

Daine liked Kaddar. He was steadfast and calm and smiled easily. She had never seen him say an unkind word or a cruel action against anything. And yet, he was working with a man who could just kill on a whim.

"He killed Carlos in the aviary," Daine said dully. "You said we would leave soon, Kaddar, and we're still here. I want to leave."

Kaddar brushed the hair back from her forehead, the same way her mother used to do after a bad dream or when Daine was sick. "Tonight," he said softly. "It is all happening tonight. Master Lindhall and Numair are showing Ozorne and Josef the weapon as we speak, and Lindhall is recording everything on a device which is transmitting straight to Alanna's people. It will be all over tonight, now that they will have Josef."

Daine smiled shakily, focusing on the sense of his touch on her hair.

"Shouldn't you be there?" she asked quietly.

He smiled at her and nodded. "I just wanted to be sure you are well. I will go now."

"I don't want to be alone," Diane whispered. "Can I go with you?"

"My uncle will be there," Kaddar cautioned, looking worried. "Perhaps you should stay here, and stay safe until it is all over."

"No," Daine said stubbornly. "I want to see Numair. I need to see Numair."

"Perhaps now this foolishness between the two of you will pass," Kaddar said, nodding reluctantly. "You should not push away people who love you, Daine. Those who do so truly number far too few in the world."

Daine nodded. "I know, Kaddar. I'm sorry I used you like I did, to upset him."

Kaddar smiled, mischief lighting up his eyes for the first time since Daine woke up. "I will not claim innocence in the matter," he conceded. "It was selfish and childish of me, but I did gain some satisfaction from having everyone believe we were involved. You are a beautiful and engaging woman, Daine, and Numair is a very lucky man, though he doesn't seem to realise so."

Daine blushed, and smiled at Kaddar. "Thank you," she whispered. "Now, let me put on some dry clothes and then we can go find Numair.

--

Daine had been up to the topmost balcony a few times during her days wandering aimlessly around the island. She'd sat on the low concrete railing with her back against the rendered walls, and stared out over the endless ocean which separated her and Numair from freedom.

The room before the large balcony was a large studio entertainment room, tree of the walls built almost entirely out of glass to afford panoramic views over the ocean and the island itself. The glass doors onto the balcony were propped open, and she could see Lindhall huddled over a laptop, while Numair stood off to the side, away from Ozorne and Josef. He was peering over the side of the railing, studying something Daine couldn't see.

"Let us wait here," Kaddar cautioned, his hand on her arm stilling her motions.

Daine was opening her mouth to argue, when she realised that something was wrong on the balcony. Ozorne was starting to scream, waving his arms around in agitation.

"You said ten minutes!" Ozorne raged, "you have made me look a fool in front of Josef!"

"The only one making you look like a fool, Ozorne, is yourself," Numair's voice cut back. Daine and Kaddar both gasped at Numair's brashness – no one spoke to Ozorne like that.

"You dare insult me," Ozorne hissed, his "I, who took you in and treated you as family, and yet, you threw your gratitude in my face. I, who looked after you-"

"You, who took a young girl hostage. You, who has murdered countless people. You, who think everyone should worship the ground you walk upon. You, Ozorne, who would be nothing if you did not have money," Numair argued back.

"He's lost his mind," Daine whispered to Kaddar. There was a crack as Ozorne raised his hand and slapped Numair across the face, causing him to stagger against the railing. If Kaddar had not grabbed hold of Daine's arm and clamped a hand over her mouth, she would have run at Ozorne screaming at him.

"I will not have you speak that way to me," Ozorne was saying as Daine struggled in Kaddar's arms. "I see now that are useless, Numair. Good only for flashy trinkets and empty talk of philosphy and things which do not count for anything in reality. You are a waste of space, you, and the beggar girl you are so in love with."

But he doesn't love me, Daine wanted to yell, you have it all wrong! Kaddar was strong though, hard muscle like steel trapping her and stopping her from running to Numair's side.

"You wouldn't even understand love, Ozorne!" Numair yelled.

"I do not need love," Ozorne said coldly. "And I do not need either of you."

As though time slowed down, Daine saw Ozorne reach for the same weapon with which he had killed Carlos only hours before. He lifted it toward Numair. Daine's vision narrowed to a tunnel, her hearing faded and all that mattered was the gun in Ozorne's hands.

With unexpected strength, she pulled free of Kaddar and ran. Ran at Ozorne, not sure what she would do, but running at him all the same, determined to do something.

The shattering sound of the bullet leaving the chamber cracked through the air, ripping it apart. Daine stumbled as Numair stared at her, a look of surprise on his face. The force of the bullet impacting him lifted him slightly, throwing him backwards, and then he was gone.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Daine screamed, launching herself at Ozorne.

She was still screaming as her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers clawed at his face. Around and around they spun, Ozorne's gun waving in the air as they staggered around balcony. Daine could hear shouting around them, running, footsteps, someone calling her name, Numair's name, but it didn't matter because Ozorne had killed Numair and it was all over, just like that.

The gun went off, there was more screaming.

Ozorne wrenched Daine from his back and flung her on the ground, her newly mended ribs splintering yet again under the impact of her body crashing onto the tiles. Still, everything was distant, all she could see was Ozorne standing over her, the dark muzzle of his gun staring down at her.

This was how Carlos had felt, knowing it was all over.

This was how Numair had felt.

And now it was her turn.

"You have been more trouble than you were worth," Ozorne ground out, his eyes mad as he looked down at her. "You and Arram. I should have killed you both rather than this circus. Thankfully, it is not too late to change it now."

Around them, everyone went silent. No screaming, no yelling, nothing. Once again, everyone just stood back and let it happen.

Everything in Daine wanted to shut her eyes and curl up in a ball and wait for the nightmare to subside, but a part of, the small, stupid, brave part, refused to give in. Instead, she stared up at him, waiting.

There was a click as a gun was loaded; Daine swallowed.

"No, Uncle," a calm voice broke through the silence. "I cannot let you kill her."

Ozorne looked up in surprise, anger twisting his features. "You would interfere, Kaddar?" he demanded.

"I will not let you kill her," Kaddar repeated. Daine risked a glance away from Ozorne, and saw Kaddar standing beside her, his gun pointed at Ozorne.

"What foolishness is this?" Ozorne hissed, his gun still focused on Daine. "You would defy me for this pitiful excuse of a woman?"

"No more killing," Kaddar said quietly. "It has gone on long enough."

Ozorne laughed madly, lifting his gun from Daine and pointing it at Kaddar. "Who are you to try and command me?"

"I am no one," Kaddar said quietly. "And neither are you. You have no right to kill a girl who has done nothing."

Ozorne started laughing. "And how will you stop me, Kaddar? I have my guards here, and their weapons are all pointing at you. My weapon is pointing at you. How will you stop me?"

Kaddar smiled, and Daine felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite in her chest.

"We have already stopped you," Kaddar said.

Ozorne started to speak again, and then frowned. He looked uncomfortable, Daine realised. As though he was going to be sick.

"There were two strains of DNA programmed into your weapon," Kaddar said quietly. "One for the rabbit."

A look of horror dawned on Ozorne's face. "You would not dare," he whispered.

But even as he spoke, Ozorne blanched, his face pale and beads of sweat forming upon his skin. The hand holding his gun trembled and twitched.

"Relent now, and we can still save you," Kaddar offered, his voice as quiet and calm as it had always been."

"Never," Ozorne spat. "You will not stop me."

The hand holding the gun was shaking now; Ozorne lifted his other hand to the weapon to try and steady it.

"Do not do this, Ozorne," Kaddar requested.

"You should not have done this," Ozorne gasped, doubled over in apparent agony.

Whatever was happening to Ozorne did not look comfortable, Daine thought, and she could not find one ounce of care or pity within her for his plight.

"Drop your gun, and we will save you," Kaddar said again.

Ozorne, refusing, made one last effort to steady the gun. Daine half believed he wasn't capable of it anymore, but he managed to pull himself upright, grunts of pain forced out of him. "I will… not," he repeated, coughing. As he coughed, his finger closed over the trigger and a second shot rent through the air. Ozorne collapsed, and behind Daine there was another muffled thud as a second person fell to the ground.

She turned around, and saw Kaddar lying in a crumpled heap.

"NO!" she screamed again, throwing herself at him.

"It is a flesh wound," Kaddar gasped. "Go find Numair!"

Daine struggled to her feet, and started running from the balcony, leaving the twitching Ozorne behind with the stunned company of Josef, and the silent form of Lindhall, almost forgotten as he huddled over his laptop.

--


	29. Chapter 29

**twenty nine**

Alanna, her face painted black, was crouched in the shadows of the jungle scrub on the edges of the garden around Ozorne's mansion. For the last hour, she and her SWAT team had been poised, waiting for the signal from either Kaddar or Lindhall, telling her they were ready for Alanna's team to move in.

"It's too quiet," Stockman whispered beside her, his voice barely more than a whisper of air against her ear.

Privately, Alanna agreed. Even though Ozorne wasn't expecting company on this island, she would not have thought he would leave it so unguarded. Then again, the difficulty in approaching this island unnoticed did make it very secure.

She was just turning to Stockman to suggest they start moving in to see what was happening, when there was movement at the mansion. Several people, servants by their uniforms, shuffled across the lawn and placed what looked like a small wire cage on the lawn. Using her goggles, Alanna realised there were rabbits in the pen.

"What are they doing?" Stockman whispered.

Alanna felt a sick feeling begin to grow in her gut; if the weapon was anything along the lines of the hints Kaddar had been giving them, then she had a fairly good indication what the rabbits were about to be used for.

"Demonstration," Alanna whispered, feeling her guts clench at the thought. "Knuckle down, it won't be long now," she added.

Sure enough, lights on the topmost floor of the mansion were flicked on, and a small party of people could be seen making their way onto the balcony which ran along the front of the mansion.

Though she couldn't hear their conversation or make out all the individuals clearly, Alanna was fairly certain she recognised Numair and Ozorne. There was no sign of the girl, Daine, or of Kaddar.

Long minutes passed, and it became clear that Ozorne was becoming agitated. They could hear his voice rising, and growing in anger. Numair, to Alanna's horror, started arguing with him.

"Shit," she hissed, nudging Stockman. "Let's start moving in. Quiet though, we don't want to give our position away."

Stockman, the trusty sidekick that he was, signall the rest of the team, and like silent black ghosts they began to trickle towards the house.

Alanna was on the fringe of the side garden when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot ran out through the night sky. She looked up in time to see a body tumbling from the top balcony down towards the bushes hugging the sides of the extension.

Without even speaking, she saw the two members of her team melt away towards the victim. Whispering a quick prayer that the unlucky victim wasn't Numair (though honestly, Alanna didn't like her chances on that), she pressed on, pushing her fears to the back of her mind.

For such a large mansion, and such a dangerous and wanted man, the lower levels of the house were surprisingly devoid of human life. Those few servants which they came across were neutralised quickly and without any resistance; Alanna wasn't surprised to note the relief on some of their faces as they obviously considered this a rescue mission. A second gunshot, muffled by the house splintered the air and Alanna signalled to her boys to pick up their pace.

The second and third floors were just as bare leaving them only the fourth floor where Ozorne and all the others must have been. Alanna was concerned that they still had not come across Daine or Kaddar, but right now Ozorne was her primary target.

They were up the stairs and in the large studio room off the balcony when a third shot shattered the night silence.

"HANDS IN THE AIR!" Alanna bellowed, stepping into the doorway. A small hurricane crashed into her, and to her utmost humiliation Alanna went topping backwards, her gun knocked from her hands and clattering dangerously across the floor.

"FREEZE!" Stockman yelled, stepping into place in front of Alanna while other team members trained their weapon on the person trying to make a run for it.

"Please," the girl was babbling, "I have to find Numair, he's been hurt."

"Daine?" Alanna asked, gripping the girl by her arms and holding her still. "Daine, it's me, Alanna, Numair's friend. Do you remember me?"

"I have to find him!" Daine was screaming, struggling in Alanna's arms.

"Daine, calm down," Alanna ordered sharply.

The girl ceased her struggling, still shaking.

"It's over, Daine, you're safe now," Alanna said quietly, having noticed the lack of argument on the balcony now that here men were surrounding everyone. "You're fine. My people are looking for Numair as we speak, okay?"

"He was shot," Daine whispered, looking clearly at Alanna for the first time. "He fell over the balcony."

Alanna's worst fears confirmed, she stood up and helped Daine to her feet as well.

"Stockman, you have it under control?" she checked, picking up her gun from the floor and thanking whatever gods were listening that the weapon hadn't automatically started firing.

"Yes ma'am," Stockman said, grinning at her.

"I'm going to see if we can find Numair. Round this lot up."

Stockman nodded, and Alanna led the way back down the stairs to go looking for Numair.

--

Daine walked behind the short woman she vaguely recognised from all those weeks ago when she had first gone to see Onua about a job. She wondered how Onua was, but something was too tired and dark and heavy in Daine to let her open her mouth and ask. It was as though all her energy was taken up with following behind Alanna who was going to lead her to Numair.

They found him by the side of the house, lying in shadows. There were two men dressed in black with weapons strapped to their bodies tending him, and they stood with their weapons raised as Daine and Alanna appeared around the corner. When they realised it was Alanna and Daine, one of them broke away from Numair and walked towards them.

"How is he?" Alanna asked – Daine was surprised to hear the tension and worry on her voice. Then again, Daine remembered, Alanna and Numair had said they were friends so her concern was understandable.

"Stable, ma'am, but we need to get him to a hospital. The shot is a flesh wound – the round appears to have gone straight through the muscle, but I'm concerned about the fall from the roof, there might be some internal injuries I can't treat."

Alanna nodded briefly. "The evac. is on its way; stay with him, please."

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, and this is Daine, our other hostage. Take her with you because she'll want to see how Numair is, and Onua is waiting for at home."

The man nodded again, turning to Daine with a friendly smile. "I think he'll be fine, miss," he said gently.

Daine nodded, her eyes burning with tears. "Can I see him?" she whispered.

The man, whose name Daine still didn't know, led her back to Numair. In the grey light his face was pale and still, his dark hair melting into the shadows aroud him. She reached out a shaky hand and touched his cheek; it was cold and damp, but a gentle puff of air against her wrist told her that he was breathing.

"Stay with me, Numair," she whispered, stroking his cheek gently, "stay with me. I have to tell you something important, and I need you to hear it."

She sat with him until the helicopters arrived, and even then she wouldn't move far away from him.

"Take care of him," Alanna's voice said next to her as Daine watched the men loading Numair carefully into a helicopter.

"I will," Daine promised. "Thank you for saving us."

Alanna smiled. "You're good for him, Daine. Make sure you keep him on his toes."

Daine smiled a watery smile through her tears, nodded, and climbed up into the helicopter with a little help from the men already on board. Only once she was strapped in and sitting next to Numair holding his hand did she allow her body to succumb to the exhaustion she had been battling away for the last few weeks. Her eyes dropped shut and she slept the whole way back home.

--

_We are so close to the finish now it is burning in my fingers!_

_Please, if you enjoyed this story, take two minutes to drop me a review and let me know; it's taken me years to write all this so a few minutes of your time to let me know its been enjoyed will make it all worth the while!_

_Last few chapters won't be long in coming, I promise._

_Cheers,_

_Sil _


	30. Chapter 30

**thirty**

Onua sat on the wooden steps of her deck, her favourite coffee cup clasped between her fingers. Still early in the morning, the heat of the sun was already warm against her skin, promising to be yet another hot summer's day with clear blue skies.

To think that a few months back, at the beginning of spring, she had sat here on this deck and not imagined the changes that would take place. She remembered Daine arriving on Cloud, the way Tahoi had welcomed her and the girl's natural talent with the ponies. She remembered Numair's arrival, his disdain for the chickens and the farm and the house that Onua had fought for in blood.

And yet, the man had proven himself to be worth more than she had ever believed he would be.

And Daine. For the while Daine had lived and worked with Onua, Onua had come to see her as a younger sister, even a niece to be looked after, loved and cared about.

Onua longed to go upstairs and wake Daine, to talk to her and make sure yet again that after everything the girl had been through she was okay. Yet, the girl needed to sleep. It had taken every art of negotiating Onua possessed to convince Daine to leave the hospital and return home for a rest.

"Numair will be fine, Daine," Onua had promised. "He just needs to rest, like you."

"I can rest here too," the girl had argued, her eyes barely staying open where she sat on the chair next to the bed.

In the end, Daine had relented and Sarge had carried her to the car and brought her home.

Sarge. Onua smiled, filled with warmth at the thought of him.

"What are you smiling about?" A deep voice asked. She turned to the object of her thoughts who was also clutching a coffee cup in his hands, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"You," Onua said simply. She patted the deck next to her, and he obligingly sat down. Closing her eyes in peace, Onua leant against him, sighing happily as one of his broad hands started rubbing up and down her back in soothing motions. "I'm happy now, Sarge. I have you, Daine's home, Numair will be fine, and the nightmare is over. What is there not to smile about?"

She felt him chuckle against her, a gentle rumble of his chest. He dropped a kiss against her hair, and gave her a gentle hug. "You're right, Onua," he agreed, sipping from his coffee. "What is there not to smile about."

--

Daine woke slowly, familiar scents of pine and grass and leather tickling at her senses until she finally opened her eyes. Above her was the uneven roofing of her room in Onua's cottage. Tucked into the warm, cosy bed, she was reluctant to move in case the dream dissipitated and she found herself back in Ozorne's villa.

Her nose itched, and her side ached, but the dream didn't go away.

_We were saved_, she realised with a jolt. Alanna, the helicopters, Numair getting shot-

All thoughts of lounging in bed were thrown aside as she remembered the events leading to her return home. Ignoring the aches in her bones, she scrabbled from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T shirt which had been left in her cupboard from so many weeks before her kidnapping. She raced down the stairs, shoes in one hand and socks in the other, and found Sarge sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper.

"Morning, Daine. Onua's got a coffee ready for you," Sarge said easily, looking up at her over the large pages. "We heard you get up."

"Thank you," Daine said automatically, blinking in surprise. What was Sarge doing in Onua's house this early in the morning?

"We didn't think you'd get up quite so early," Sarge continued, picking up his own cup and taking a smooth long swallow.

"I'm worried about Numair," Daine admitted, picking up her cup and taking a sip. Whatever Sarge was doing in Onua's house wasn't really any of Daine's business, she decided.

"Numair's doing fine," an unexpected voice announced from the doorway. Alanna walked in, followed by Lindhall and Onua. "We stopped by the hospital on our way here, and they're just waiting for the doctor's to sign the formalities to release him."

"Really?" Daine asked, stunned. She'd been envisioning months long stays in hospitals to recover from his gunshot and fall.

"Really," Lindhall smiled gently. "The wound was only a fleshwound. He was lucky, really, that fall would have killed most people but Numair managed to pick the shrubbery to land in and they broke his falls nicely. Other than a few bruises and scratches, he's come out just fine!"

Relief washed over Daine like a cool mountain spring, and she sat down hard at the dinner table. "So it's over," she whispered.

"Almost," Alanna said apologetically. "We just need to get statements from you and Numair about everything that happened on the island so that we can charge everyone appropriately and shut the operation down for good."

A flicker of concern reignited in Daine's chest, and she felt a surge of guilt. "How is Kaddar?" she asked quietly.

Lindhall smiled. "Also fine. He is very fortunate, just like Numair, that he will be fine. Unfortunately the bullet did damage some ribs so he will be in hospital until they are certain there is no lung damage and that the splinters are removed."

"What about Ozorne?"

Lindhall looked very sorrowed for a moment, his eyes filled with regret.

"He died, Daine," Alanna said softly. "By the time he stopped fighting the damage was done and the poisons, as I understand, killed him."

Daine found it very hard to feel any shreds of sorry or regret to hear of Ozorne's passing.

"The plans for the weapon have been destroyed, and all materials associated with it as well," Lindhall continued. "Josef is in custody, the captives on Ozorne's islands are currently being processed and set free as they deserve. There were so many deaths," he said quietly.

Alanna patted him on the arm comfortingly. "But it's all over now."

"And Sarge and I are both happy to have you back, Daine," Onua said quietly, coming over to stand by Daine's side. "Lindhall also brought you someone who you apparently forgot about in all the excitement."

Perched on Onua's shoulder was a small, brightly coloured bird with bright eyes.

"Kit!" Daine exclaimed, smiling broadly.

The little bird chirped and chattered, scolding Daine for leaving her behind, but all the same happily jumped from Onua's shoulder to Daine's proffered hand. Happily Daine petted the little bird, and looked up curiously at Lindhall. "How did you get her in?" she asked. "Aren't there quarantine issues and the like?"

Lindhall smiled, winking at her. "In all the excitement, it might have been unnoticed."

"And who's to know where Kit came from?" Alanna asked, also smiling. "After all you've been through, I'm not going to say anything."

Daine smiled her thanks, gently tickling Kit's tummy with her fingers. "Thank you."

"When you've had some breakfast, we'll take you down to the hospital to see how Numair is doing," Onua added, also smiling.

"Numair is doing fine," a familiar voice said from the doorway.

Daine looked up at him, almost afraid to meet his eyes. He was standing just inside the door, still pale and looking thin, but the strain was gone from his face. His large, dark eyes stared at her intently, and when Daine finally met his gaze she look in his eyes tugged at something deep in her stomach.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered as everyone in the room faded away; all that mattered was Numair standing in front of her, alive and well.

"It takes more than that to kill me," Numair whispered. "Especially not when there's something important you want to tell me," he added.

Daine blushed. "I didn't think you could hear me," she said, embarrassed.

"I always hear you, Magelet," Numair said, reaching for her hand and pulling her close. She stepped into his embraced easily, revelling in the feel of his arms holding her tight and his unique scent wrapping around her. From where her head was pressed againts his chest, she could see the bulge of the bandages wrapped around his other shoulder, a souvenier of the night before.

Abruptly Daine pushed him away. "Numair, what are you doing out of hospital?!" she demanded.

"I was cleared to go," he said, pulling her against him again. "The doctor not even five minutes after everyone left, so I called a taxi and here I am."

She buried her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "For everything."

"Me too," he said, just as quietly. He pressed his head down against her head and held her for several long minutes. "What did you want to tell me?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later."

"I'm glad to see you're okay," a dry voice commented.

"I doubt that very much, Alanna," Numair retorted. "You seem to take great pleasure in torturing me."

Alanna snorted. "Rubbish," she said. "When have I tortured you?"

"I remember you dumping me in the middle of nowhere for a few weeks, telling me it was all for my own good," he pointed out.

"I think it was all for your own good," Alanna returned smugly. "I mean, just look at you now!"

From where she was wrapped up in Numair's arms, Daine couldn't agree more.


	31. Epilogue

**epilogue**

The sky had long ago darkened to smudged violet littered with with crystal stars. It didn't carry the thickness of the tropics, but the dry air was still warm from the days heat; it wrapped around Daine like a blanket and she settled back comfortably on the rug spread on the grass beneath her.

"Tell me another one," Daine said finally, breaking the silence between them.

"How about Cassiopeia?" Numair suggested.

"That'll do," she said happily.

"Okay, see that nice bright pattern like a W over there?" he asked, pointing in the sky. "That's the constellation Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia was the wife of the King of Ethiopia – he's there right next to her in the sky, see? Anyway, Cassiopeia – let's call her Cassie for short – was very very beautiful, but she was also very vain and boastful. She was so vain that one day while she was combing her beautiful long locks, she dared to say that she was even more beautiful than a Nereid. A Nereid is a sea nymph, Daine, and they are the daughters of the Old Man of the Sea. One of these Nereids was married to Poseidon – I'm sure you've heard of him, right?"

"Right," Daine said happily, listening intently, "but what's that got to do with the Cassie?"

"Well, not much really, except that the Nereids wanted Cassie punished for her vanity, and so the sea god sent a monster to ravage the coast of Ethiopia, the country of Cassie's husband. This monster is also in a constellation, Cetus, which-"

"Cassie, Numair," Daine interuppted again, smiling to herself.

"Right. Anyway, to appease the monster from ravaging the country side, Cassie and her husband changed their daughter Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice, however she was rescue by Perseus."

"So why is Cassie in the stars?" Daine asked.

"As a punishment for her vanity, she was condenmed to circle the celestial pole for ever, sometimes hanging upside down which is very undignified for a woman of her disposition. The shape of the constellation depicts her sitting on the throne fussing with her hair."

Daine squinted up at the stars she assumed represented Cassiopeia, the wonky W. "You know, no matter how hard I look Numair, I can't see the pictures in the stars."

Numair chuckled. "Yes, it does require some imagination."

Daine sighed. "The stories are fair gory for such pretty sights."

"They're meant, I think, to be a reminder to mankind for the traps we are prone to fall into. They remind us to mind our lessons in life," Numair said thoughtfully.

"Well, I don't need any stars to teach me lessons or remind me to remember them," Daine said grimly. "I think I've learnt just about enough."

Again, Numair chuckled next to her.

Still staring at the sky, Daine felt his arm creep around her and pull her in tight against his side. She wriggled into place comfortably, sneaking her head up to cushion on his shoulder so she could feel his heart beat beneath her cheek.

"I learnt something very important," Daine continued quietly, still looking at the cold stars so far above.

"What was that?" Numair's voice rumbled beneath her, washing through her with a warm comfort.

"That life is too short," Daine said.

Numair barked out a laugh. "That, Magelet, is the greatest cliché of all time."

"I haven't finished yet," Daine said crossly.

"Sorry," Numair said contritely.

She cleared her throat. "Life is too short," she repeated, "to spend it fooling around saying one thing, meaning another, and feeling something different again."

Numair remained silent, though she could tell he wanted to question what she meant.

"While we were on that island, I pretended to be someone I wasn't. I flirted with Kaddar and let you think things about Kaddar and myself that were untrue," Daine said quietly. "I did that because I was angry at you, and jealous, and hurt."

His arm tensed around her, hugging her close. "I didn't exactly behave in an exemplary manner," he pointed out.

Daine nodded her agreement. "It's still no excuse though, for being dishonest with you. Kaddar and I are friends, Numair. Nothing more."

"I know," he said gently. "Once Varice and I were more," he said softly, "however, things and people change, and she was not the same woman who I cared for."

"She slept with Ozorne," Daine whispered.

"I know," Numair agreed. "But that didn't change the fact that I no longer cared for her in that manner, even though I may have led you to believe that I did."

Daine sighed. "You know how there was something I wanted to tell you?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He hugged her tight again, and she pressed her face against his chest, breathing in the smell of him like a fine wine.

"I thought I'd lost you," she continued, baring her soul – now that she had started she might as well do it properly. "When I saw you fall over that balcony, it was… I don't even want to think how I felt then."

"What are you going to do when you wake up in ten years time and see an old man lying next to you?" Numair asked tentatively.

Daine smiled. "Tell him to get up and stop being lazy; just because he's old doesn't mean he's dead."

Once again, Numair chuckled beneath her.

"Good," he said. "It wouldn't do for old men to get lazy."

"No, it wouldn't."

So very gently like a butterfly, his lips brushed against hers and he smiled into her eyes.

There was silence, and Daine stared up at Cassiopeia as she danced across the sky. As her eyes drifted shut, lulled to sleep by the silver lights and the warm breeze and Numair's heart beat against her ear, she felt him press a kiss to her forehead and tuck her against him more snugly.

"I love you too, Magelet," he whispered into her hair.

Smiling, Daine drifted off to sleep.

--

_And there you have it boys and girls, we're all done!_

_Hope you've enjoyed the ride – please take the time to let me know because my author's vanity dictates that it needs praise, so praise away!_

'_Til next time,_

_Silf_

_PS I could see Daine being a Vet; what do you think?? I'm not continuing the story, but it's certainly an idea for a modern fic, isn't it?!_


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